Vampire: The Masquerade
Contest of Will
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Tuesday, August 5th 2014
11 AM Gary Public Library
Samuel Lukos, head librarian, grins as the computers on the tables buzz to life. Satisfied, he turns his attention to a section filled with old, dried up periodicals. No one has touched them in ages, and they are no longer the resource for students they used to be, a decade ago. Especially now, he reflects, gazing admiringly at the computers. Especially now.
He looks at the newly printed sign: Occult/Spiritual
Once he would have scoffed at having a section like this. Not in his respectable library. But the library has been crumbling to pieces. No, now he knows the truth. This is the section that will save it, and him, from extinction.
He drags a trash bin over and tosses the first of the crumbling periodicals away. He gazes at the front door, where the painter is changing the store hours. He'll need someone he can trust to work the new late afternoon and evening shift. And he has no idea what he's going to do about the new day and evening shifts on the weekends.
But he has the money, Reverend Thomas' money, to pay for all of it. He grabs another periodical and it falls into the ol' circular file. He smiles. He knows he'll figure it out.
OOC: Reverend Thomas has spent $5,000 and increased the capability of the Library to 2.
2 PM The Hotel
Jeeps watches carefully as a team of professional electricians from Inland Power Group rip out all of the old, expired wiring and replace it with magnificent state-of-the art materials, including fiber optic wiring for optimized computer speeds, which has now been hooked into every suite's two empty rooms. The workers were warned to stay out of the bedrooms, and they did.
In addition, extremely powerful generators replace the old ones in the basement level. These really kick up the juice to the highest possible level. Ordinarily, such generators are not available for normal businesses. But let's face it, there's nothing normal about what's going on in The Hotel.
OOC: The wire installation increases The Hotel's overall capability rating by 1, to its new level of 2.
3 PM Superior Construction
Over at Superior Construction, workers craft Salihah's doors with more skill than they'd showed on previous projects. President Mitch Smaldey hired a new site supervisor, but he was overseeing the job at Gary Transfer Station. Smaldey is overseeing the doors himself, while simultaneously Vice-President Bill Falding is interviewing candidates for the new marketing department division manager position, as well as two marketing staff members to round out the team.
OOC: Salihah has to spend $5,000 of her money bank on these doors, which goes into Superior Construction's corporate bank account. Once the doors are installed, which will happen in turn 4, she will have Enhanced the Hotel's security rating.
Pablo has spent $5,000 and enhanced the Influence of Superior Construction to 2.
4 PM Gary Transfer Station
Superior Construction site supervisor Adam Reeves had arrived at ten in the morning, and the crew had started work around noon. Now, in the fourth hour, the job was just about done. They had spaced the entire area to make it far more efficient. They had expanded areas that were owned by the plant but were previously unused because they had not been properly zoned. Now they were. There had been ten other smaller items on the list, and now the last of those were in place. It was like a whole new work site. Safer, more organized, the work staff here at the waste management transfer station would have good reason to be happy. It was an entirely different work environment now. It's capabilities will certainly be vastly increased. Adam Reeves, nods his head appreciatively. His first real day on the job and he had his hands completely full. First this deal here, but in a few short hours he'd be replacing all of the windows at that large building that had basically just been sitting there waiting to fall down for decades. But first, Adam Reeves sees a steak and some potatoes in his very near future. And a beer. Definitely a beer.
OOC: Salihah spends $5,000 and Gary Transfer Station's Capability rating increases to 2.
6 PM The Hotel
It's been a long day for new Superior Construction site manager Adam Reeves. He oversaw the project at Gary Transfer Station and now he's here to oversee the start of the new windows project. He is amazed that somebody has finally bought this monster of a building. A stroke of luck for him, as he'd been out of work for some time. His credentials were good though, and Superior Construction looks to be on the rise. Yeah, this is going to be a long one. But overtime money is good. Very good. He has no complaints.
The windows are strange though. Tinted to reflect sunlight from the outside, and made of bulletproof glass. You would think these were going on The Pentagon. Still, who was he to ask questions. Nobody, that's who. His crew sets up shop and they get to work.
OOC: Pablo spends $5,000. The Hotel's defense rating raises to 3.
THE LIVE ROLEPLAY SESSION!
OOC: This is the start point of the Live RPG session that occured on Sunday, August 21st, 2014. While there was only 1 active player, Graham, playing as Mortimer T. Smith, the NPC's were all involved as well. Here is what happened:
7:30 PM Private Suite: Mortimer T. Smith
Mortimer wakes to the sound of construction workers doing their thing. A quick glance out, and Mortimer can see they are swapping out the windows. Other workers throughout the building from the power company had upgraded the wires, and Mortimer is pleased to discover the new fiber optic cables. Christmas and his birthday have come early, not that he ever celebrated the first and hasn't celebrated the latter since his death came. But that's not the point.
The point comes when he attaches his computer system to the cables and discovers, as he hoped, that everything moves five times as fast as it did previously. With the added power, he feels comfortable finally putting the bells and whistles on his system.
As he completes that task, he sees the note from Mr. Confetti. A summons. Emergency session in the Central Room at 9 PM. Of course there's going to be an emergency session after his "rival" Marshall Barry slaughtered forty plus police officers last night.
He reflects on his memories of the other competitors' activities, especially the long conversation that the Reverend had with Mr. Confetti. He never considered the high level of intrusion that "everyone learning everything" would have. The Nosferatu clan is all about keeping secrets. Just like Reverend Thomas, he'll likely have to choose between this contest and clan before long. Well, he fulfilled the tasks his sire embraced him to do. Moscow is safe from computer-based infiltration from all outsiders, his superior bots would see to that. He'd not actually been needed there for over a year.
He had the blessing of his Sire to be here, to do this. That's all that matters. The Nosferatu of Gary and Chicago will have to take a back seat. And that was that.
He gazes at the clock. 8 PM. He has an hour until the meeting.
8:15 PM Random Streets in Gary, Indiana
A master of obfuscation, Mortimer strolls about the town, simply observing. The more he acclimates to the environment, he knows, the better he'll be able to fit in when he uses Mask of 1000 faces. He wants to understand the culture, the mind-set of the people.
For the most part it is a huge disappointment as compared to the culture and especially, the intellectual capacity, of the population he was an invisible part of in Moscow. This town is so dirt poor that the only people living in it are those who are trapped here.
The only other kinds of people are students dumb enough to pick the colleges here instead of in Chicago proper, or anywhere else on the Earth, and ideologists who think they can save Gary from itself. They can't.
Oh and the criminals. There are so many criminals he actually witnesses a mugger steal a purse from a woman and then, fifteen minutes later, get mugged himself and have to give it up! It's all Mortimer can do to keep his obfuscate on as he almost loses his concentration from laughing so hard.
He gazes at his digital watch. 8:45. Time to get back to The Hotel and into the emergency meeting in the Central Room. He had thus far avoided much contact with the other competitors, but he knew that sooner or later, he'd have to join them. He had just been hoping it would be later. Much later.
9 PM The Central Room
At Mr. Confetti's request, all of the competitors head into the Central Room. Almost immediately, Pablo, who wears his Night Fist costume, is on Marshall Barry like white on rice. They brawl for a minute, with the Gangrel tossing the Toreador against a wall, where he bounces off, springs back to his feet and moves back into attack position.
Katarina extends a wall of pure inky darkness between them, and Salihah stares Pablo eye to eye. "You can't dominate me, bitch." He says, but then he finds himself completely paralyzed as her eyes seem to swirl. "I don't need to." She retorts.
Marshall Barry tries to claw his way through the inky darkness, but gets wrapped up like a surfer being overwhelmed by a tidal wave. "Eventually I'm gonna get through this!"
"I think you have caused enough problems with your penchant for wanton violence for one week, don't you think?" Reverend Thomas says coldly. Marshall grimaces, retracts his claws and takes a seat.
Mortimer, who intentionally stays close to the door in case the fight gets out of control, sits next to Mr. Confetti, who never wavered from re-stringing his violin the entire time.
"If everyone is sufficiently finished," Mr. Confetti says in his usual affable way, "we can begin our meeting."
Salihah turns away from Pablo, who opens and closes his clenched fists. "He murdered half the police force! You're not expelling him from the Contest?"
"I fail to see why Mr. Barry's tactics would cause me to expel him. He hasn't done anything against the rules." Mr. Confetti says simply. Pablo almost frenzies on the spot.
Mr. Confetti leans in towards him. "You are angry, Pablo, because you think those were good cops, and you have a long history of working with law enforcement. But look at the town we are in, the shape its in. Do you really think those were police officers of merit?"
"They likely all had families! Great cops? No. But cops nonetheless."
"The ones who are not on the take are under Modius' control." Confetti says simply. "Gary has not had a police force in quite some time. The only thing they care about is Modius' safety."
Pablo slams his fist on the table.
"Look, I screwed up. I admit it." Marshall Barry growls. "I never thought it'd escalate into all of that. But once they saw my powers, I had to off 'em for the sake of the Masquerade."
Reverend Thomas chuckles a bit. "Oh, is that why you did it?"
"As a matter of fact, it's exactly why I did it." Marshall Barry is serious.
"Mmm. I see. But you could have simply allowed yourself to be arrested. Then one of us could have bailed you out, and used our powers to make them forget about the entire thing. No one would have been harmed at all." The priest says with a shrug.
Marshall Barry thinks it over. "Like I said, I screwed up."
"That's all you have to say!" Pablo seems about to attack him again.
"Yup." Marshall answers, pretty much daring him.
"It's done." Salihah cuts in. "This should not be about pointing fingers. It is about what we are going to do about it, so that we are not considered enemies of the region."
"Precisely why I called you all in here." Mr. Confetti says, a twinkle in his eye. "I have this." He holds up a letter. Everyone gazes at it.
"I won't bore you to tears by reading it. Suffice to say that Prince Modius has invited all of you to his mansion to kiss his ring."
Katarina frowns. "Is this a necessary tradition, to kiss the ring?"
"Yes." Reverend Thomas says. "It will be distasteful to us, but we should all do it. Even if we end up not supporting Modius, he should be the last person to know about it, not the first one."
Pablo's frown grows wider. "You know, Pablo." Salihah smiles brightly at him. "He might not be the only Toreador who is running for the position. Since you have this conflict of clan, you should find out if there is someone who is not already at war with the Ventrues to support."
Pablo shrugs. "Yeah, maybe. Okay, I'm gonna let this whole thing with the police department go, Marshall. But next time you get in over your head, just fucking call me. All right?"
"Yeah. Fine." Marshall retorts.
"I am making a change in the Contest of Will." Mr. Confetti announces. "In light of all of the, massacre, as they are calling it in the newspapers, a big prank on the city would not be wise at this time. It would jeopardize the Masquerade and we can't have that. I will pull that particular opportunity from the Fun-Time tasks. However, Marshall's actions have also created an opportunity."
Marshall eyes Mr. Confetti suspiciously. "How so?"
"The police department is so weakened now, that it won't know what it's left hand is doing while it's right tries to get the simplest of things done. It's the perfect time for an overhaul. A complete face-lift. Therefore, it is now a Fun-Time Task to replace a current department head with one of your own choosing. Once someone has taken over a department in this manner, the rest of you will have to leave it alone, and take over a different one, should you choose to be involved."
"That's...completely undermining Modius." Pablo suggests. Mr. Confetti grins at him.
"Is it? The police department here is incompetent, out of its depth. The streets are overrun with criminals and no one wants to live in an environment like that, making it impossible for us to succeed at transforming Gary into a place where we can build true economic power, and influence. Even if we take the police department away from Prince Modius, by making it into a capable force and making entire neighborhoods safer, we will actually be strengthening his base of operations. So I fail to see how he can complain about it."
Everyone reflects on that, in silence. "Though," Mr. Confetti adds. "Let's not tell him!" He laughs loudly. Everyone else laughs too. Even Pablo, who has been uncharacteristically sour, finds himself caught up in the joke. "Also on the list of things not to tell him is about what Marshall did. No, you all play dumb about the massacre. None of you know a thing. Is that clear?"
Everyone agrees. Between elder Kindred, that constitutes a contract and everyone knows it. Marshall is quite relieved. "Thanks." He mutters.
"You might as well go directly to Prince Modius' estate." Mr. Confetti says. "If you get it over with quickly, which is unlikely because Modius is a long-winded blowhard, but you never know, you might have time for other things tonight. If anyone has other business, you may state so now, otherwise..."
But nobody does and the room quickly clears.
9:30 PM Random streets of Gary, Indiana
The competitors have all changed into their best clothes. Indeed, even Mortimer has put on a button down shirt and slacks. Currently using Mask of 1000 Faces to appear as he used to before his Embrace, he joins the others as they casually walk down the street towards the Prince's mansion.
He leans in to Pablo, who is no longer in his Night Fist costume. "Should I appear as myself or-"
Pablo nods his head. "Yes. That you do not smell like the sewers will be enough to gain his respect tonight. If you use an illusion in the Prince's house, it might be construed as a threat. "
"That's what I thought."
The competitors approach Prince Modius' Mansion. It looks like it used to be a really nice house once.
Modius' mansion is in a secluded area of Gary, like a small compound off a back road. It looks like it was a beautiful house once, but now it has clearly fallen into disrepair. Some of the shingles off the roof are gone and the paint is clearly peeling. A once impressive row of bushes are now completely overgrown and unkempt. One leans badly to the left side. Some of the windows look like someone threw a baseball into it, and there appears to be some hefty damage to one of walls, which has been caved in, on the east side.
There is a huge dumpster in the middle of the lawn. Two large bouncer types stand near it.
Security Guard one steps up to the group. "Hi, there. You are expected guests, but there are no armaments in the Prince's mansion. Please deposit all weapons in here. You can collect them on your way out later."
The other security guard uses a metal detector and frisks every party member before he or she is allowed to enter the grounds.
At the front door, a gaunt, pale butler who is still breathing air, and politely does his job, greets them.
"Good evening, honored guests. I am to take your coats and hats, and I gladly welcome you to the estate of Prince Modius. Please excuse the appearance of the house. We were recently assaulted as you know, by werewolves. Most of the worst of the damage has been fixed, but there are still, well, lingering issues, with the...er...paint and roof, and some of the windows. And that wall over there. Prince Modius assures us that his mansion, much like the rest of the territory will soon be fully restored. Please follow me to the Dining Hall, where the Prince and other honored guests await."
The butler, who Salilah quickly learns is named Strohman, leads the group through a long hallway. There is art on the walls, some of it is exquisite. There was a time when Modius had wealth and true power. His tastes are slightly morbid but the art is gorgeous and likely quite valuable.
Inside the parlor, there are a number of other individuals, the primary one is the Prince of Gary, Modius. He sits behind a large desk, in an old, antiquated suit that belongs in the 1930's. As Strohman escorts you in, Modius fidgets nervously and rubs his hands together.
Modius almost stands, then clearly remembers he is the prince and sits back down.
"Good evening. I am Prince Modius, and you are in my Domain. I invited you, and as such you are my welcome guests. In accordance with our ancient Traditions, I promise you safe tidings while under my roof."
Suddenly, the very large man with the mishappen face sitting on the edge of the couch claps happily and bounces on the couch. "Safe tidings! Safe tidings!'
Modius grimaces slightly from the interruption, his face twitches a bit. A pretty waif of a girl strokes the big man's head, and that seems to calm him.
Modius continues. "I look forward to your personal presentations, wherein I can individually welcome you, and grant you permissions for the extension of your business enterprises, subject to conditions pertaining to my rule of this territory as Prince. You will, in accordance with the ancient traditions, kiss my ring, thus acknowledging my dominance as your leader. But before we get to that, I will now introduce each of the other honored guests in the room. Each of them is a citizen of my territory in good standing. First, I introduce Lucian, of clan Gangrel whom most of you likely already met." He gestures to Lucian, who leans against the mantle. Lucian nods to the group.
"Do you have anything you'd like to say to our guests, Lucian?"
Lucian pauses to consider it a moment.
"No." he says.
Modius' face twitches a bit more.
Modius gestures to a flamboyant, handsome Kindred who sits on a piano stool by a grand piano. "That is Juggler. He is an Elder of clan Brujah."
Juggler smiles brightly at all of you. "I can't believe you've moved here. It's..." he searches for the right word. The silence while he does so is a bit awkward. "Invigorating. Yes, that's what it is. Good show, moving here, the lot of you. Can't wait to get to know you all better."
There is a slight Italian accent in Juggler's inflection, though he hides it well and has "Americanized" most of his speech patterns.
Modius re-takes control of the room. "Next I will present our neonates. This is my childe Allicia, of clan Toreador." Allicia shyly bows her head. "And that is Michael."
Michael claps loudly and bounces on the couch.
"Michael is, uh, Malkavian. We think. We're not entirely sure."
Michael claps loudly again. "I am Toreador! I am Toreador!" Allicia pets his head.
Modius barks sharply at him. "No, Michael. I've told you before. No, you are not a Toreador!" Michael looks sad. Allicia kisses his forehead gently.
Modius looks at all of you sternly. "I should let you know, I have my people on it, and I know what happened to all of those police officers."
Marshall Barry inclines his head, slightly tensing. "Oh, you know?"
Modius nods his head sagely. "Yes. You see, they are blaming it on Juggler here, in the news."
Everyone looks at Juggler. "I control the Sin City Disciples." he says with a shrug. "And I can tell you right now, they didn't do those cops. It's the Chicago Ventrue, I'm telling you. They're trying to drive a wedge between us Prince Modius."
Modius grins fiercely, shows his teeth. "Yes. That's just what you'd say. But, I warn you, Juggler. I have..." he gestures to the group. "New allies, in case any of my old ones can no longer be trusted."
Juggler grimaces. "I'm telling you the Sin City Disciples couldn't kill that many cops and just get away with it."
Lucian stares at Juggler intensely. He clearly doesn't like the man. "Its in all of the news that they did it. So it hardly seems like they've gotten away with it."
"And who controls the newspapers? The Ventrue, that's bloody well who!" Juggler shrieks.
Modius simply shrugs. "We'll be investigating the matter quite thoroughly. Quite thoroughly indeed. But our guests have waited long enough. It's time for them to get what they are here for."
Lucian hands a full glass of blood to Modius, who raises it. "In the honored ways of the traditions. I will, in mere moments, hear your say your name, your bloodline and sire's name, as well as your current status within the Camarilla and your purpose in coming to my territory. Before that I should like to discuss the current political climate in our region."
Michael is...er...Malkavian?
Juggler, a Brujah Elder, is getting the bad rap for the cop killings. But we know who really did it, eh? Shhh!
When you are Prince you can talk as long as you want!
Allicia, Modius' childe, a Toreador Ancillae. She hasn't said a word in 50 years!
You get the feeling Lucian is here to protect Prince Modius in case any of the newcomers present an issue. And the same maybe goes for Juggler considering what his gang may have done to Modius' police force.
10:30 PM Parlor
"As you no doubt have heard the unfortunate news," Prince Modius continues his diatribe about the current political climate, which he has been doing for precisely thirty-five minutes now much to exasperation of everyone present except Michael who claps at inappropriate times. If Modius notices he makes no remark.
"Prince Lodin of Clan Ventrue has met his Final Death at the hands of the Garou. You may have heard some tales about the absolutely epic struggle that was in the process of taking place between Prince Lodin and myself. Indeed, Prince Lodin coveted my territories. Apparently, Chicago and its suburbs weren't enough for him, and so he and his lieutenants set about the task of attempting to destroy us here in Gary. It was a back-and-forth battle. I will give Prince Lodin his due, he had some small, minor victories here and there. But ultimately, the Lupines deprived me of the joy of victory that I and those honored guests you see here were about to capitalize upon. As I was about to humiliate Lodin entirely and drive him from his seat and the region, I fully expect all of the elders here and in Chicago to support my claim as I simply expand my territory to include Chicago and all of the other prevailing surrounding areas. Quite frankly, there is no reason for anyone with any degree of intelligence or sanity to refuse this simple change of power. There will of course be those jealous and covetous of things that do not belong to them, and they will oppose my course. But with the support of generous new friends, I know I will prevail, and the rewards and benefits for those who are my supporters will be unlimited in their vastness. Now, let us begin your introductions."
Outside, there is the faint hum of motorcycles.
"Should I like what I hear from you, I will grant you full permission to reside within my territory, to hunt and to open businesses and gain influences as is our cultural way."
The motorcycles clearly are approaching the private mansion. Juggler and Lucian exchange glances. Lucian immediately peers outside the window. Modius bravely speaks on without moving an inch.
"I assure you that your safety and health are assured because-"
"YEAAAAAAAAAAAH HIT IT!" someone screams outside. Gunshots are quickly followed by the screams of the two security guards outside. Then a Molotov Cocktail crashes through a window and rolls into the room.
"Because I am the Prince of this territory and oh shit!"
Modius ducks down behind his desk. Lucian and Juggler hit the floor. As the cocktail explodes, it takes out the left side of the wall and causes the drapery on it to burst into flames!
"Stop, Drop, and Burn you Elder motherfuckers!" a second voice screams from outside. A mob of laughter mixed with the deafening roar of motorcycles fills the air.
Rotschreck is a German word that roughly translates to "The Red Panic." When Kindred confront the few things that can truly bring Final Death to them, they must face their fears or lose full control of their own actions. Like Michael does as he quickly rushes out the door. Right on his heels is Mortimer T. Smith, who has not had to deal with fire in his short un-life as a vampire.
Allicia quickly rushes out of the room, but unlike the other two, who are clearly in a blind panic, she bears no emotion whatsoever.
Lucian sighs, extends his claws. "It's the Anarch Movement. Guess they heard about our little party somehow."
"Damn them. Well, what are you doing! Shoot them or something!" Modius screams!
"With what? All of our weapons are in that dumpster on the front lawn!" Juggler shrieks. He is quite obviously near panic himself.
Though nobody had previously realized it, one other Kindred was also suffering the ill effects of Rotschreck. Katarina had long been sheltered by her family in the Romanian mountains. Though she had worked with fire in her scientific laboratories, it had always been under controlled conditions. This was now a raging, burning drapery, not at all under her control.
As it swings her way, Katarina responds instinctively! Giant black tendrils burst out of her back! One of them smacks Salihah further into the room.
"A Lasombra!" Juggler yells.
"Sabbat infiltrator!" Prince Modius points, his eyes wide with terror.
"She's all right! She's with us. She's not Sabbat." Reverend Thomas yells back, as he pulls Katarina away from the burning drapes, Pablo hits her full blast with Presence. "Calm yourself." He says in a steady voice. Salihah gets to her feet, surveys the situation, smirks at Marshall Barry, and rushes out into the hall.
"How'd you like that, you elder fucks!" a voice yells from outside, as a brick smashes through the other window, and forces Marshall to duck. "I'm going out there!" he snarls. "No, don't." Lucian cautions. "They have more explosive devices, plus their motorcycles. They are waiting for us to charge out there. But we must see to the Prince's safety. We must escort him into the sub-basement.
"This won't happen when I become Prince of Chicago. They'll all kneel to me then! They'll all do what I tell them to do! You'll see! You'll all see!" Modius is a pathetic wreck. This was supposed to be a night of triumph. A night when all of these elder allies kissed his ring and he could start his new rebellion against all those who had long suppressed him. Now it is all falling apart right before his eyes, and he is helpless to do anything to stop it from getting worse.
Katarina whispers to Reverend Thomas, who has now succeeded in getting her far away from the fire. "Did you see Salihah? She was smiling she...Oh! She's after the hidden flag." Reverend Thomas smirks. "Smart. Well, we can stay here and fight well-armed anarchs, escort the prince to the sub-basement, or...do what she's doing."
Marshall Barry's heightened senses causes his ears to twitch. He closes on the two of them. "That's a no-brainer." he says. Conspiratorially, the three of them charge for the door. "Yes, let's get the Prince out of here." Katarina comments, as though the three of them are the vanguard.
Unbeknownst to Prince Modius and the other Kindred of Gary, Mr. Confetti has hidden a pirate flag somewhere in the mansion. Being the first to see it is a Fun-Time Task worth 200 points plus a special melee or firearm weapon of the winner's choosing!
It is possible for multiple competitors to see the flag simultaneously, resulting in multiple winners.
10:45 PM 1st Floor Hallway
Mortimer can't think straight, which for him, is the largest impediment to success he's ever experienced. He has no idea what happened to the large Malkavian in the Superman pajamas. He vaguely remembers the butler rushing in, and he and Allicia then rushing down the hallway together. He doesn't really even remember what happened, or how he ended up here. But there's a fire! A fire! That much he definitely knows.
He can't see it, but he can smell it. It could be anywhere! Anywhere! Aaaaah!
After that, it's a red haze of stumbling back and forth in the hallway, sometimes bumping off walls but never actually getting anywhere. He can smell the burning fire and it causes his panic level to rise. If he had a blood pressure rate, it would be through the roof. As it is, he feels like he's on fire himself. He's out of control!
Someone quickly rushes from within a nearby room. Who's that? It's Salihah! She grins brightly at him, even going so far as to reach out and ruffle his feathers on the top of his head. She giggles as she runs off.
In a good mood, running off by herself? What does it all mean? Mortimer struggles to calm himself, finds he can't, but somehow does the math. "The flag." he thinks. She's after the pirate flag. It all comes rushing back to him now. He'd intended to be the first one on line, to kiss the Prince's ring. It would have been easy, he's an ugly bird monster. The stupid Toreador prince would have been so glad to get Mortimer out of the room. Yes, the Prince hadn't said a thing, but he'd been clearly horrified, and had intentionally not looked Mortimer's way one time during almost an hour of uninterrupted speaking!
Never mind. Where's the fire? Where's the flag? The fire? The flag? Mortimer gazes in the direction Salihah ran in. Same direction Allicia and the butler ran in. Clearly, not the direction of the fire. He re-identifies the door she rushed out of, that was where the fire was. The others were still in there, and that wouldn't last long. His super-genius brain, working overtime while in a complete state of panic, computes the math. He has an advantage on this floor, in this, the right wing. He struggles forward, towards the door to the parlor. The fire!
He runs past it, and flings open the next one, and heads inside.
10:46 1st Floor Hallway
Even as Mortimer runs into the room further down the hall, Katarina, Marshall, and Reverend Thomas lead the charge out of the Parlor. Prince Modius and Juggler are right behind them, followed by Pablo and Lucian who take the rear guard.
Allicia and Strohman, the butler, emerge from around the corner with a large pot filled with water. They are having a hard time of it, and as they pass the main group, Pablo takes it from them and heads back into the parlor with it. "Thank you, sir." Strohman says, genuinely relieved. Lucian catches up with the group as Allicia and Strohman continue into the parlor as well.
10:46 Fencing Room
Still in the deep end with the Red Fear, Mortimer gazes about at the fencing equipment and tries unsuccessfully to calm his mind. He is about to go off the deep end, but he concentrates his willpower, which keeps him sane for the moment.
The pirate flag, he reminds himself. He searches through the fencing equipment, but comes up empty. No flag here.
10:47 Parlor
Pablo wastes no time. He unceremoniously dumps the water onto the burning curtain. He is just in time as it was about to spread further into the room. The three of them have to dive down to the floor as bullets crash through the windows. "How's that feel you elder scumbags?"
Allicia breaks down, cries tears of blood. "Now, now." Strohman tries to calm her, but then stops as he can see she is on the edge of frenzy. He gazes at Pablo, concerned. Pablo crawls to her and hugs her, turns on the Presence. "Everything is going to be fine. Bullets can't really hurt us for long." She nods appreciatively to him, and hugs him back tightly.
More bullets whiz overhead. "Perhaps I might suggest we head to the sub-basement, sir? Miss Allicia and I would certainly be safer there." Strohman is already crawling towards the doorway when he says it. Allicia continues to hug her savior. "Yeah, let's go." Pablo says. Now he's getting a little weirded out by Allicia's affection. She is, after all, Modius' childe. Often in such cases when an older gentleman actually embraces a young, pretty thing, he doesn't like it when other men get too close. The last thing Pablo wants to do is piss off the Prince. That would be the opposite of what they came here to do tonight.
10:55 2nd Floor Hallway
Salihah had charged past Mortimer, who looked be having a bad time of it, and then had come to the crossroads in the main hallway. She had considered forging ahead into the left wing of the 1st floor, but then she stopped herself. She tried to think like Mr. Confetti. Most Kindred, sneaking into the Prince's haven to plant a silly pirate flag would have snuck in through a window, found a mostly unused room, possibly among the last ones in that ground floor wing, and placed it in the closet.
But Mr. Confetti was not that kind of a man. He was bold, daring. Just getting into the mansion would have been the first step. He'd have explored it, up and down. And then he'd have put the flag somewhere that struck him as funny, but where the Prince and the staff would not likely be going. The flag, one could assume had been in the house for many days. At least, that's what the others would have assumed. Not Salihah.
Mr. Confetti would know exactly when his competitors would first head into this house. And he could easily get in and plant the flag only an hour, maybe even a few minutes before they had arrived. Yes! That's it. While the group was occupied in the parlor, Mr. Confetti could easily sneak in and plant the flag. In fact, it would be the safest moment, when it would be obvious that the Prince and other Kindred, as well as the competitors would be occupied with one another. Malkavians were known for being just as uncanny with obfuscate as Nosferatu, and of course, her own clan, the Followers of Set.
The flag is freshly planted, she decides. And he wouldn't put it just a few doors away from where the real starting point was -- the parlor. It's either up or down. A fifty-fifty proposition, she chooses up for the reason that clearly Modius and his retainers felt safer and likely made their haven in the basement and sub-basement, rather than upstairs where the Anarchs could more easily kill them with a fire started at the level below.
The more she thought about it the more she liked the 2nd floor or the attic for where the flag would be. And so she had charged up the stairs like a demon, hoping to have it for herself for a short while in the chaos. To increase her chances, she turned invisible.
The left wing, it had turned out, was the staff's quarters. Most of the rooms were quite plain, and though they were not dusty, the butler had seen to that, it was obvious from the lack of clothing or personal artifacts that much of the staff from the heydays had been let go. Prince Modius was far worse off than his posturing had briefly made her think. He was a good talker, all right. But that is about all Modius seems good for these days.
She entered the fourth room in the wing to discover this one is clearly lived in. A cursory look in the closet confirmed a few more butler's outfits to match the one worn by trusty Strohman. His room! She doubted very much Mr. Confetti would leave the flag in here. It would be quite chancy as Strohman was quite the clean freak. Still, she would feel quite silly if it is in here and someone else spotted it first.
Nothing of note in the closet, or the drawers. Under the bed, a suitcase. Hmmm. She pulls it out. Inside, amidst toiletries and other personal items, a small box. Too curious, she easily picks the lock and it pops open. Inside, are letters. Does Strohman have a sweetheart she mused? Let's find out.
As Salihah reads the letters, her smile first quickly fades, then, by the end of it, her smile is wider and brighter than she'd had all evening. These letters should have been discarded a long time ago. Or at least, not kept here in the Prince's own mansion. A spy! Strohman the loyal butler is a spy reporting on Modius' activities to someone named Bronwyn. Who this Bronwyn is, Salihah has no answer and there is no further clue, except that some of the letters are quite old. The paper stock and faded handwriting, plus the contents themselves. Yes, good old Strohman had been a loyal servant for at least a decade, maybe more. But not to Modius, No, no. How very interesting. Salihah replaces the letters in the precise sequence and shape that she finds each one in, leaves no trace of her presence in the room, and clicks the light off as she heads back to the hall. She had not found the pirate flag, but she had found something just as good! A mystery to be solved!
Who is Bronwyn?
He's a spy!
Salihah gets 250 extra points for uncovering a mystery! Discovering Bronwyn's identity is now a Grapevine quest open for exploration!
10:58 PM First Floor Hallway
Mortimer completes his examination of the right wing with no luck at all. He'd come across a huge kitchen. He didn't find anything there but his sanity. Finally, away from the fire for an extended period, he calms down and returns to his normal mindset. After the kitchen he went back into the now abandoned parlor and rummaged quickly through Modius' desk. He decided not to mess with the ledgers there, that might be fun for another day.
He decided he'd taken the wrong tactic remaining in this part of the mansion and decided to find out what everyone else was up to. He got to the main junction just in time to see Pablo heading downstairs with Allicia and the butler.
Mortimer darted up the stairs, fearing that his competitors had the jump on him since he'd clearly wasted his time on the first floor. He wasn't even remotely interested in the left wing down there. He decided to immediately head for the attic, and work his way down.
He locates a pull-down ladder in the 2nd floor right wing, and quickly yanks it down. Halfway up, he feels the big, ham-like hand of Marshall Barry clamp onto his foot. Marshall yanks Mortimer off the ladder, and he hits the carpet!
"Oh no you don't. Nice try. You pop your head up there, the flag's sittin' right in the middle of the floor? You win. Not on my watch, pal!"
Marshall tries to punch Mortimer in his face, but Mortimer is quick enough to roll out of the way. There is no way for Mortimer to fight this Gangrel one-on-one, hand-to-hand so instead he quickly uses a modified version of Mask of 1000 Faces, and causes Marshall Barry, and anyone else who might see him, to suddenly be clothed in a ballerina's tutu!
"What the? What the fuck!" Marshall Barry yells, unsure of how this happened to him but absolutely irate. Mortimer uses Marshall's confusion to quickly scoot up the ladder.
In the attic Mortimer doesn't see a flag. He does see a sniper taking pot shots at the Anarchs outside. As Marshall roars up the ladder, enraged, he makes plenty of noise. The sniper spins around, and not knowing either of them, assumes they are with the anarchs.
"Stay back!" he cautions, aiming his rifle first at Mortimer, then at Marshall. "Hey, man, it's cool. We're with the Prince." Marshall says. Mortimer attempts to turn invisible but only manages to turn himself semi-transparent. This makes him look like a bird-monster--ghost thing. Near him, Marshall Barry is a big, nasty vampire wearing a pink ballerina tu-tu!
The very last of the guard's nerves frays and dissolves. His finger squeezes the trigger and he fires a round right through Mortimer's mid-section. He may look like a ghost but he's really quite solid. With the loss of concentration, his illusions disappear and Marshall is back in his Hell's Angels gear.
Mortimer groans from the pain and hits the deck hard. Blood soaks through Mortimer's white business shirt. Marshall pounces on the guard and knocks him unconscious from one punch. He looks down at Mortimer and laughs his head off. "And here I was all upset that I didn't get up here first." He cackles some more, and then searches through the boxes. "It's just a bunch of old shit up here. Women's clothing! What the fuck!"
As Mortimer uses blood to heal himself, Marshall scoots down the ladder and is off.
11:00 PM 2nd Floor Library
Reverend Thomas can't help but laugh a little when he hears the sniper's rifle go off above him. He had used a Seeker, essentially a flying magic eyeball, to look up there and he had seen the sniper twenty minutes ago, and had let the man do his job without interruption.
He had been diligently looking for the pirate flag, having abandoned the Prince to whatever well-deserved fate he would get at the hands of the Anarchs should they find a way to get to him. But now he finds himself distracted. Almost the entire second floor wing is dedicated to a vast, impressive library. While nothing here to disturb the secrets of his clan's thaumaturgy, and he had thoroughly checked that to make certain, there are many books here that would be great for learning about other species such as the Garou, rival mages, and even faeries. Very nice. And so he had created more Seekers, who were flitting about the library. He'd gotten lost in a very good book about a ghost pirate and his treasure. It was of interest because the ship had supposedly been lost not too far away from this very spot. Likely the reason Prince Modius had acquired it.
He put the book back on the shelf. Buried pirate treasure under the ocean isn't a priority right now. When Mortimer pops his head in, they exchange a glance. A seeker flies past his head, then zips away. Mortimer shrugs and retreats. Reverend Thomas smirks, and heads for the door himself. Apparently the search is still on. Despite his many years of sitting at desks, hour after hour of arcane learning, he finds this juvenile hunt to be somewhat of a thrill. A good distraction he considers. He pauses to look at the clock. In exactly two hours, at the Chantry in Chicago, the weekly meeting of his clan will take place. He was expected, and not showing up would be a terrible breach of etiquette. He could easily go down to the cellar, finish his introduction, and then leave the house and make it well in time. But...then he'd betray the Tremere clan entirely, to a bunch of, let's face it, strange, unique elder rabble Mr. Confetti had gathered from around the globe, to do things such as finding a small pirate flag hidden in an incompetent Prince's house. When he betrayed the Catholic Church to the Kindred, and he had to face the facts. That is exactly what he did, he felt it was to serve a higher purpose. But what higher purpose would betraying the Tremere clan for Mr. Confetti's Contest of Will serve? And yet...and yet he felt...strangely at ease in The Hotel. He didn't show it, but he was starting to really like the other competitors. Each was so unique. Like himself.
Reverend Thomas wanders the hall and explores the rest of the right wing, mostly linen closets and storage. No pirate flag. He is only half-searching though. His mind is still a million miles away. Should he attend the clan meeting or not? Should he? Or not?
11:02 PM 1st Floor, Left Wing
Katarina is not having any issues aside from being somewhat embarrassed at her display in front of the Prince and other Elders. It was unbecoming, but then again so was having a big burst of fire almost swing right into her beautifully sculpted face!
While her competitors all seemed to like the idea of going upstairs, she had instead stayed on the first floor and had examined all of the rooms in the left wing, except this last one.
She opens the door and pushes inside. The other rooms had been guest bedrooms, seldom used. She had been hopeful and still is that Mr. Confetti would choose a room that would not be greatly in use and so she has stayed the course.
Throughout it bad things kept happening. The Anarchs outside kept throwing rocks, bottles, every now and again, they would waste a bullet and break a window with it. Shattered glass covered the floor on every room. She reflected that Pablo might have another customer for his windows. She reflected that she should have been smart enough to take the construction company herself. Still, there were others...if she wanted to compete with him for contracts, she could. Another decision to make for another time.
This room is immediately very different from the others. There are collages on the wall, clearly an art project by someone. The pillows are quilted -- clearly also made by an individual and not store bought. Pretty little animals made of different materials - silk, paper mache, even a few chiseled from clay and different colored stones, hang from the walls on string.
"This is the girl's room. Allicia." she mutters. "Yes, indeed." Mr. Confetti's voice resounds through the room, startling her so badly she has to bite down on her lip to keep those black inky tendrils to snap out of her back again. "Mr. Confetti!"
The man was lying sideways on the bed, reading a book.
"Mmm. I don't think you're supposed to be in here." he says as she scans the room for the pirate flag. Perhaps he's here in person to act as judge for the contest. He grins brightly.
"You scared me!" she frowns at him, but quickly sifts through the dresser drawers, but comes up empty.
"Oh, is that all it takes?"
"No. Not usually. But...we had an incident...there was a fire."
"Yes, smelled it. Bad news. I wanted to be here personally in case anything went wrong concerning the coppers. But apparently its better than I knew. The Prince suspects everybody except us."
"Marshall, you mean." Katarina smirks, distancing herself from the incident.
"He's one of us." Confetti retorts. "By the way, nobody's found the flag yet. It's still up for grabs."
"It's in here? Is that why you are in this room? To witness my victory?"
"Don't be silly. I can witness any victory you have from twenty miles away."
"You have to teach me that!"
"You really want everybody else's disciplines don't you?"
"Yes."
"Good girl. Always keep 'em guessing, huh? Anyway, no, it's not here. And I suggest you not be found in here. Modius is overprotective of his "daughter."
"Mmm." Katarina turns towards the door. Her eyes narrow. She turns back. "You aren't lying are you? Is that part of the game?" She quickly looks under the bed, but finds nothing but shoes. Lots and lots of shoes.
"The flag is in plain sight. It's not inside anything. When you encounter it, you'll see it. And win. Or someone else will."
Mr. Confetti grins, and hops towards the window. "See you back at The Hotel."
"You're going out there now? The Anarch Move-"
Mr. Confetti makes a raspberry sound with his tongue, and abruptly hops out the window.
11:15 PM Stairwell to the Basement
Mortimer is done with the upstairs. Done with it. The hunt is fun but the fun is over. The Anarchs are out there shooting the place up. And nobody is trying to stop them from doing it. He'd already gotten shot once, and was forced to use some of his blood pool in the process. Not cool. Another couple of those and he'd have to go out and feed again, and that's a problem he also hasn't solved yet.
Time to head into the basement levels. At least down there he can poke around and see what's going on without getting punked by some angry Kindred with a shotgun. A quick look around and then he'd head to the safety of the sub-basement and get Modius' approval, which by the way was the real point of coming here. It would suck to watch someone else get the points for the pirate flag, but for all he knows, that's already happened. Pablo clearly went down here a long time ago. Well, whatever. It wouldn't hurt to poke around a bit.
There is a laundry room setup with an ironing board. Just as upstairs, there are wings heading to the left and the right. Mortimer opens the cabinets. Cleaning supplies. This is an area likely used more by the butler than the prince. Oh well.
He notes the strength of the security door that leads downstairs, and hopes if he knocks on it someone will open it up for him. He'll find out shortly.
He heads to the left wing and discovers two massive doors there. Opening the first of them, it is a freezer with all manner of containers of blood. There is some food for the staff on a lone shelf, but for the most part? Blood. And it's color-coded too. Hmmm.
He shifts some things around and while there is no pirate flag, there is a key to the color code. Quickly Mortimer copies it on a spare piece of paper, and puts it in his pocket. That little tidbit of information might come in handy in the future. At the very least, it might impress Alexander Danov that he has acquired it.
He closes the freezer door and examines the big vault next to it. Electronic security. Pretty standard stuff, slightly outdated. This would be an easy job if Mortimer was pulling it. As it is, he doesn't have the equipment for it here. The Hotel is only ten minutes away, but...nah. The Prince is right downstairs and getting caught with his hand in the big ol' cookie jar wouldn't be a good look.
He heads back and into the right wing. Two large doors here as well, but very different. These aren't vaulted doors, they are large wooden ones. He pulls open the first one.
And immediately grimaces.
11:16 PM 2nd Floor Junction
Marshall Barry leans against a wall as the other three confer. Salihah and Reverend Thomas had blanketed the second floor, Katarina knew that Mortimer had searched the right wing of the first floor and had found nothing, and she herself had searched the left wing. For his own part Marshall related his story in the attic and he had also covered most of the first and second floors, himself. And no pirate flag.
"He's messing with us." Marshall grins. "There ain't no flag in the house."
"There is, I'm telling you." Katarina is exasperated. "He was here. I talked to him. He said it's in plain sight."
"Well, it ain't. And don't tell me its in the basement, cause you know Pablo's been down there and-"
"He has stayed with and is protecting the Prince, however." Reverend Thomas states in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Suck up." Marshall snorts.
"So, the basement it is." Salihah says with a grin. "And I am betting that Mortimer is already down there. Nosferatus always win these scavenger hunt kind of games. Their clans play it all the time."
"They do?" Katarina says with interest. "I wish my clan had some kind of fun going on, but instead-"
"Instead they run around from city to city murdering hundreds of innocent people and every other Kindred they run into." Marshall snorts derisively.
"Hmmmph. The Sabbat do seem odorous. Please do not forget that my family has never been tainted by them." The tension in Katarina's voice is palpable.
"We know, Katarina." Reverend Thomas states in his calmest expression. "I have fought the Sabbat at every turn, yet I have never felt a twinge of threat from you."
"Not a twinge, even? I am not so harmless as that, Reverend." Katarina retorts sourly.
"You know what I meant." The Reverend looks out the window. "Those Anarchs are a nuisance. If there was a police force presence of any note in this city, they would have arrived by now. And then it would get sticky."
"Indeed. Good thing someone already killed them." Salihah grins brightly as she says it. Marshall Barry snorts again, and has no retort. "I feel like cutting loose. Fuck the flag, let's the four of us go out there and kick those Anarchs' asses."
He waits for what he believes is the inevitable rejection. Instead there is a quiet silence. "I too, feel a certain level of tension inside myself." Reverend Thomas says quietly. "I concur."
"We're not going to beat Mortimer to the flag if it is in the basement anyway." Salihah says regretfully, then she smiles. "And these thin-bloods and high generation rabble will never be able to deal with all four of us at the same time, I expect."
"Perhaps we should call Pablo. He is usually in for a good fist fight, no?" Katarina is getting excited for the upcoming battle too, they can hear it in her voice.
"He left his super suit home. Let him stay in the Prince's haven where its safe and warm." Marshall Barry laughs his head off, still a little sore at Pablo for his unprovoked attack in the meeting at The Hotel earlier.
"You think he won't fight without it?" Katarina is amazed.
"Super heroes need to protect their secret identities." Reverend Thomas chastised. "If everybody learns who he is, his ability to use Celerity and Potence will go away. Didn't you know that?"
Everyone is silent a moment as they consider the Reverend's words. Then all three break out in raucous laughter. "I don't believe it. He told a joke!" Salihah points at Reverend Thomas. The corner of the Tremere's mouth quivered with a bit of a smirk, which only sends the three of them into more hysterics. "Come on. Let's get out there and bust some heads." Marshall Barry grins.
"Yes. Let's." Katarina's words were the final ones needed. The four elder Kindred proceed immediately towards the front door.
.
11:17 PM Interrogation Room
Mortimer reluctantly steps into the darkened chamber, where torture devices both new and old filled the space from one corner to the next. Dried blood, intentionally never cleaned, fills his nostrils and makes him lick his chops. He ignores it, and searches for the pirate flag. Even Mr. Confetti wouldn't be sick enough to plant it here, though, right?
There is a large table set in the middle of the room with a large lamp, currently off. The light from the hallway lights the room well enough with the door open, so he leaves it alone. On each side of the table is a big chair, but the one closest to the torture devices has thick metal straps to lock down the victim's arms and legs.
Well, in all honesty, Mortimer realizes he doesn't know Mr. Confetti at all. He has no idea what depths a Malkavian who created his own clan and brainwashed a bunch of people into thinking they were a part of it will go.
Mortimer sniffs the blood in the air again and realizes that there is new blood mixed with the old. It is easy to follow his nose and find the chamber of horrors the victim was placed in. Horrific. Mortimer involuntarily shudders as he tastes the dried, but new blood. Powerful, vampiric blood he realizes immediately. But he's not experienced enough to know what clan its from. A Kindred was tortured in here within the last 48 hours, Mortimer realizes. The thought makes him decide to Obfuscate. Using his powers within the Prince's house is likely an offense. But being found sneaking around the house might be worse. Anyway, with Anarchs attacking and him never having been in the house before, he has a quality excuse for doing both.
There is no pirate flag here. He heads out of the room and towards the next one. Instinctively, Mortimer's "Danger Will Robinson!" sign blinks in his mind. He considers that if the first room in this wing is an interrogation chamber the next one must house the prisoners. The thick wooden door is nearly big enough to be the size of two normal doors.
Mortimer tenses, readies himself in case he accidentally lets someone or something out of a cell that he shouldn't. He shifts from invisible to using Mask of 1000 Faces to look like one of the guards he spotted earlier.
He opens the door quickly, but his concern is for nothing. The big door leads into a larger prison area with six different cells, three on each side of the room.
Mortimer walks on through, discovers five of the cells are empty. The middle one on the right side however, has a lone individual in it. At Mortimer's approach he quickly grabs the bars of his cell.
"Help! Help me! You must help me! What is happening? What are those explosions? You can't just leave me here to die!"
"Sorry." Mortimer tries to sound like a big prison guard. "Step away from the bars."
"Don't you know who I am! I'm...I'm...what's my name? I can't remember. Of course I know my name. Of course I..."
He has to think about it. "Huh..huh...Hinds! My name is Hinds. I think it is. He takes it away, you see. The Great Prince. That's what he makes me call him. The Great Prince. He keeps chipping away...chipping...chipping...he laughs at me. He tells me when it's all gone he's going to let me out, and he will let me walk right out into the sun. Because I won't remember anymore, you see? You can't let him do that to me! I was just...following orders...just doing what...what...oh God I can't remember. He took it. He took it away!"
Mortimer backs away from the cell. He remembers that Mr. Confetti had alluded to Prince Modius' penchant for torture, but hearing it in vague terms and seeing it in specific ones are two very different things.
The Kindred called Hinds continues to babble. "In the big city, I can't remember what it's called now. Wind...I remember it might be called Wind. That place. My clan. My clan! I don't...I don't remember which one. You need to tell them that Hinds is here. Tell them! You'll be rewarded. I know you will. There's...someone...he's rich...so rich...he can, reward you. Please hurry. I don't know how much longer until it's all gone."
With that, he retreats further back into his cell. Mortimer quickly checks the other cells. They are empty. No other prisoners. And no pirate flag.
Mortimer has had enough of this game. It's time to admit defeat and go to the sub-basement to kiss the Prince's ring.
Mortimer has unlocked a Mystery! He gets 250 points as a result.
Who is Hinds and what has he done?
11:20 PM Sub-Basement
Pablo gazes at one of the viewscreens near the ceiling. The cameras are old but functional, and the Anarchs, masked as they are, are having a great time destroying the front of the house. They could easily destroy the cameras but it appears they want an audience and haven't done so. Their identities would be safe. The cameras are too old to pick up sound. A pity.
Nearby, Juggler's incessant pacing is getting under Pablo's skin. While Pablo loves a good fight, Juggler seems to love one even more, and sitting here in the sub-basement hiding is clearly not his way of doing things. Modius sits in a near comatose-like state, exactly the opposite of a great leader.
His childe, Allicia is doing even worse, balled up in almost fetal position on a couch nearby, the butler is the only one among them that seems composed.
Standing near Pablo, the Gangrel Elder Lucian just scowls. He appears to have contempt for both the Anarchs and the rest of the room's occupants, though he'd been very cordial to Pablo himself, having remembered how Pablo respectfully greeted him upon his arrival on the docks.
"Well, the good news is they seem content to stay outside." Lucian comments.
"Let them come in so we can hit them!" Juggler boldly growls.
"I don't understand why the rest of Mr. Confetti's people scattered. Why aren't they down here with us?" Prince Modius blurts out. Pablo grins. He realized long ago that they were likely running about the house like school children looking for a pirate flag. He would be too, but he needs to make a quality appearance with this clan elder if he hopes to meet the real movers and shakers of his clan in Chicago.
Besides, one of the group should be here, to run interference for the whole group. This is as much a part of the game as getting points. Someone else can get the flag, but he'll have earned the whole group's respect. Taking one for the team is akin to having each of them owe him a minor boon. He'd find a way to cash in on this deal later, and likely come out ahead in the deal.
"With myself, Juggler, and Lucian here in addition to your ghoul guards, you are ably protected, Prince Modius. The others decided to guard the exits. This is why the Anarchs have not been able to enter."
This is a revelation to the Prince. "Oh. Oh, I see. I thought-"
"You didn't seem to talk to each other much when we left the room. I heard no strategic planning, or else I would have been a part of it." Juggler's rude interruption might leave others at a loss, but Pablo is always quick on his feet in a negotiation.
"We have already drilled such occurrences. Mr. Confetti has brought us here to solidify the region, and that's what we are training together to do. "
"Are you certain that Lasombra can be trusted? The other woman, at least, is one of us."
"Katarina is a member of the Oradea League."
"What's that?" Juggler asks suspiciously.
"I have heard of it." Lucian states in his usual cold fashion, as he stares at the Anarchs in the monitor. "They are a secluded group of Tzimisce that run all the way back up to the beginning of the line. They are pure bloods, rarely embrace new Kindred, and live in exclusive areas in Russia, Romania, Bulgaria, and Croatia."
"She talks about the Sabbat," Pablo says, very pleased with Lucian's knowledge, "As contemptible strangers. Her family doesn't want her to mingle with them for fear of contamination. But, if need be, she can infiltrate them."
"Infiltrate..." Modius is thoughtful. "Yes. Yes, I see."
"Reverend Thomas and I are specialists at fighting the Sabbat. With Katarina on our side, we can find them, and stamp them out."
"And the other Toreador? I would like to get to know everyone in our clan." Prince Modius is getting more relaxed now. It's clear that Katarina's presence had unnerved him.
"Other...oh you mean Salihah. She's not one of us." Pablo decides to be very careful here. "She is...mmm..A Follower of Set."
Prince Modius pops up out of his seat. "What? She needs to be exterminated at once!"
"No, she is going to be help-"
"That's what everyone thinks. The Setite will help me. But all she'll do is get her dangerous coils around us, and then she'll squeeze and squeeze. No, keeping Setites out of this region is one of the very few things I agreed with Lodin about. She has to go. Because she was invited by Mr. Confetti, I will allow her to leave peacefully but-"
"Please allow me to explain, Prince Modius. All of Mr. Confetti's selections have been very carefully chosen. Just as I explained Katarina's role in helping us eliminate the Sabbat, Salihah is a specialist as well."
"With the three of you, a Nosferatu, and that big fellow, it seems you have a good strike force to combat the Sabbat and help me gain the Princeship. We can do without-"
"She is not an anti-Sabbat specialist. She is, in fact, an anti-Assamite specialist."
That gives everyone in the room pause. Allicia shivers on the couch. "There's an Assamite here?"
"We all know the Tremere blood curse has recently been broken. The Assamites will look everywhere they can for elder Kindred to diablerize. I was in Madrid when news about the Garou assault on Chicago hit. The Assamites know this territory is vulnerable. Mr. Confetti has intentionally prepared us for the eventuality of them sending agents to set up one of their assassin's nests in the region. We would never know if they were doing it. Trust me, Salihah is exactly the right person for that particular job."
Modius sits back down, and rubs his chin. "Well, but I don't like it."
Juggler laughs a bit. "You'd like an Assamite getting into this house even less."
Modius shoots him a dark look.
Pablo grins. "Besides, what you say about her...skills may be true, but she won't use you. There are lots of candidates for the princeship in Chicago. We will be able to learn a lot about them if we send her in to "assist" them. See?"
Modius did see. "So she is a weapon to weaken the other candidates. Yes. Yes! Do you understand now Juggler? You didn't want Mr. Confetti's help, did you? But now you see the benefits of this extraordinary group. Look at the Anarchs! The cowards won't dare come in here where we can slice them to ribbons! A little cosmetic damage to the front of the house. Easily repaired. They are nothing to us now. Nothing!"
Pablo settles down onto the couch, and finds himself immediately seized upon by Allicia, who buries her head on his chest. Modius shrugs at Pablo. "My poor childe is not used to such discussions about such violent things."
Pablo nods his head, wary of getting too close to the girl.
A sudden knock on the door startles everyone, but Lucian checks the monitor of the camera mounted on the outside of the security door. The only one in the house.
"It's the Nosferatu. I'll let him in." He pushes the button and Mortimer T. Smith enters. "Please close the door behind you." Lucian calls. Mortimer does.
He looks at Pablo, who is not holding a little pirate flag. "Where have you been?" Juggler wants to know. "I've been scouting on the outside. We've been making sure the Anarchs don't get too close."
"Very good!" Prince Modius says, elated. "I won't forget such loyalty. You and the others are working very hard!"
"Yes!" Mortimer replies, and leaves it at that. It takes Pablo everything he has not to laugh heartily at it.
"Uh, I should probably kiss your ring and make things official." Mortimer says.
The thought of being kissed, even on the hand, by the bird-monster is clearly not an appealing one to Modius, but he thrusts his arm out all the same. "Ah, someone who understands the traditions. Let us begin your introduction, shall we?"
11:22 Front Grounds
The four elder Kindred calmly walk out from the front door, then line up side-by-side-by-side-by side. For fifty-two minutes, the Anarchs have had the run of the place, and have capitalized by throwing Molotov Cocktails, multiple fragmentation grenades, beer bottles, bricks, big rocks and bullets from everything from simple hand guns to automatic sub-machine guns through the front of the house.
The lawn has been torn to shreds by motorcycles and choppers, and the howling, laughing, screaming, drunk on power and victory membership of the Anarch Movement, all eight of them, drive around in circles, and finally one of them notices as Marshall Barry, Katarina Novotskyatin, Salihah, and Reverend Jeremiah Thomas calmly approach.
The leader raises a solitary fist into the air, and the Anarchs point their weapons at them.
"Man, you people must be out your mind! What we got here, a couple of Toreadors, a Malkie in a Priest costume, and...what are you? Some ghoul muscle?"
Marshall Barry looks at the grim-faced Reverend Thomas next to him. "Hah Hah! He thinks you're a Malkavian and I'm a ghoul."
"He thinks we are Toreadors." Katarina smirks.
"I will take that as a compliment." Salihah laughs.
Then it all happens at once. Marshall Barry invokes the second level of Protean and nasty thick claws emerge from his forearms, extending past his hands. Large, inky tendrils explode from Katarina's back. Unlike earlier, she is in complete command of them now.
Reverend Thomas extends his left hand upwards and says a single word. Instantly, a cloud in the sky above him shifts from white to dark, and lightning strikes from it to his own hand. He glows like an electric eel, electrical charges moving from his left hand to his right. Salihah's eyes transform into two, thin almond-like shapes, and her pupils become bright yellow. Her tongue lashes out of her mouth and flails left and right in front of her, its forked edge dangerous to any who come close enough to be punctured by it.
The complexion on the faces of the Anarchs changes completely. They think about it, look at their leader, who doesn't know what to make of it. Without another word, he turns his motorcycle and tears off. The rest follow him off the grounds and away.
"Pussies!" Marshall Barry yells. "Come back here and take your damn medicine."
Reverend Thomas lets the lightning leave his body. "A strategic retreat. That was wisdom on their leader's part."
"We would have ripped them to pieces with ease." Katarina muses.
"I'm pretty sure they figured that out, my sweet." Salihah giggles, as she retracts her tongue back into her face. "We should tell the Prince that the coast is now clear. The day is saved!"
They walk back into the house.
"Yeah, we're a regular bunch of heroes." Marshall grins. "Fuck. Why didn't we just do that an hour ago when they showed up?"
"Because if we had," Reverend Thomas muses, "We wouldn't have had any opportunity to look for Mr. Confetti's flag. Let's face it, we were after our own self-interests."
"Like I said. A regular bunch of heroes." Marshall smirks. Everybody laughs.
Mortimer T. Smith approaches them. "So, uh, the Anarchs are gone."
"Yeah. Congratulations to you, I guess." Marshall says plainly.
"Oh I didn't really do anything about the Anarchs." Mortimer shrugs.
A moment of realization comes over them. "He doesn't have the flag! What about Pablo? Maybe he-"
"Nope." Mortimer tells them.
"Then...nobody has found it yet?" Katarina is mystified.
"But we've clearly searched the entire house. You did cover the basement, I assume?" Reverend Thomas gazes at the Nosferatu.
"Thought I did. Didn't find the flag but I did find...something else down there."
"Let's wait until we get back to the house to discuss the many things we have learned here." Salihah whispers conspiratorially. She nudges her head as Prince Modius, all smiles, leads everyone who was in the basement through the hallway.
"Wonderful! Just wonderful work defending my haven!" Prince Modius yells enthusiastically. "I accept all of you, even those who are not known to be Camarilla, to my territory."
"Excellent. Then we can skip the rest of the formalities and go home right?" Juggler had clearly had enough of all of this.
Prince Modius is annoyed. "Of course we cannot skip the formalities. Everyone return to the parlor, at once."
"Um, does that include me?" Mortimer slyly asks.
"Oh. Well, you have already completed your introduction with me. As has Pablo here. You are both excused."
Pablo grins at Mortimer's cleverness, and the two of them smirk smugly at the annoyed rest of the competitors as they leave the mansion.
