Ventrue Thread 1 (Closed)

[Wired*Nun]

Just a starter, sorry.

[Wired*Nun]

The message to Rurik was not unexpected. In fact, he had been waiting for it, but it was disappointingly terse. "My lord archon, there will be a meeting at ten PM tomorrow to discuss the five deaths, at the SI Annex number one elysium." Calling him Archon was a courtesy, nothing more, as he did not currently hold that title...though he had at times in the past. Many of them named him thus, a recognition of his function as they saw it. So be it, there was no harm.

He noticed the servant did not say "murders," though they could be nothing else, from the descriptions. It was after midnight on Wednesday, the day after the happenings, and so he was forced to grind his teeth and wait on his superiors once again. Not for the first time did he think the modern breed of Ventrue were a taxing lot - laggardly, circumspect, foot-dragging, prone to dither while the correct path was clear and simple. Equally, he knew he had no stomach for the kind of backslapping and backstabbing required to keep all the clans in line, the Traditions upheld, and the Camarilla in charge. He was forced to admit that he couldn't do a better job...but he could certainly do his own job better.

The servant laid a stack of files on his desk. "These are for your study. Please bring them to the meeting." The favored mortal bowed deeply, then took a step back, awaiting dismissal.

***************************************

Wednesday evening, around nine pm...Tatyana leafed through her diary-cum-memoirs, rough drafts and scribbles, mostly in Russian. It occupied her more and more these days, sorting out the happenings surrounding Walpurgisnacht of 1995, the night Boston tore itself apart. The Sabbat almost succeeded in its coup de main...if not for the timely intervention of the Glasswalker lupines, fortunately convinced that this possibility would constitute a disaster for them as well. A transfer of some of her not inconsiderable wealth, as well as the purchase of some land in upstate New York and some seeds from a tree not grown on Earth for some ten thousand years helped seal the deal...and kept them on retainer, so to speak. Nothing quite like garou to put the fear of God into those who would inconvenience me...and the fear of God is something most sorely need. But writing is hard work...I almost wish for some distraction.

A quiet knock came on her study door. At her murmured word, Benedict entered with a silver tray. He was what people nowadays would call a butler, and a most efficient and effective manager of her household and staff. Though that had been rather spare and devoid of visitors for the past few years. It had been almost two winters since Conan had come to visit, though he sent her an e-mail and pictures of Angus very month or two. He was growing like a weed. And, she had spent two weeks with Antonius in Vienna last October, enjoying the long alpen shadows and the cobblestone streets. One nostaliac clattering hansom-carriage ride reminded her why a limousine was sooooo much more preferable. Other than that...but she was used to spans of time before renewing associations.

She glances up at the portrait of her dear departed Stephan hanging over the mantel, mostly to remind her not to make any such mistakes in future. Sighing, she reaches for the card on the tray. What now?

The folded piece of stiff paper was written in a tight, precise hand, vaguely familiar to her. She racks her memory but can't come up with the connection. It was something long ago; something perhaps in the years after Ingolstadt, but before Paris...

Jean-Claude Renaude has been murdered, as have four other Kindred and five associates, within the Principality of Washington, District of Columbia. Your presence is respectfully requested on Thursday, 22 January, A.D. 2009, 10 PM O'clock, in the elysium of the Smithsonian Institution, Annex Number One. Prince Vitel considers your earlier introduction as valid, as long as all other Traditions are observed. Be welcome.

The card is unsigned.

Be careful what you wish for...

********************************

Christiaan van der Luyden rubbed his forehead, a holdover mannerism no longer related to the stress headaches he used to have as a breather. He had to confess to himself a certain amount of writer's block as he tried to work up some concept for the Teachers' Union's next public relations effort. Keeping the union strong kept the school system mediocre, and the kine unmotivated and undereducated. That in turn made sure the underclass in the inner city remained oppressed, crime-ridden and powerless...a perfect base for the Camarilla and its disparate clans. DC was the murder capital of the US, and that was the way they liked it.

Well, he had to admit, it made him vaguely uncomfortable. His mortal life was not so far in the past that all the vestiges of humanity had been stripped from him. But he had to admit, it worked, and things could be worse. He'd hate to be left thirsty, and he did take pride in his work. And all mortals died, unless they were Embraced...those who worked hard to deserve such an honor, anyway. It was hard to care much when they killed each other over some slight or piece of property.

He was startled, but couldn't complain as the intercom on his desk buzzed, a welcome distraction. His boss, Thomas von Damme, wanted to see him. He didn't mind the German's meticulous ways; in fact, he appreciated the orderliness of his mind and the clarity of his instructions. There were worse Kindred to be beholden to.

Inside, Thomas stood to come out from behind his desk. That was unusual in itself, he thought. He took Christiaan by the arm in a friendly gesture. "Sit down, please." They sat on the hard leather sofa. Christiaan was mystified for only a moment.

"I have something of a favor to ask of you. I could order you to do this, but I would prefer that you volunteered. The Prince," he shuddered involuntarily, "has requested that I detail one of my staff to join the inquiry into these distressing deaths. Someone competent, but not critical to our current efforts. And I know things have been a bit langweilich lately, not so? Feeling a bit blokiert? So I thought of you..." He can see the man is anxious...but so would anyone be when the Prince asked for something. He couldn't see how he could really say no.

"There's a meeting at the Smithsonian Annex number 1, tomorrow at ten pm. If you are willing, please be there and you will be given further instructions. You can turn over the Teacher's Union project to Stefan, klar?"

Klar indeed. He actually was looking forward to it.

****************************************

Patrick Seamus James...he repeated his name to himself, like a mantra, calming, focussing...his rage still bubbled.

He - they- whoever - took what was MINE! My property, under my protection... Patrick struck his solid wooden desk again, jamming more splinters into his already bleeding hand. The pain was soothing.

That shyte had taken Jennifer right off the street, and jammed her onto a pole in a public park like a child's Barbie-doll. Taken her somewhere on the short walk through Georgetown between her apartment and the Looking Glass. He hadn't been too concerned at first when she hadn't shown up...later, he hadn't been able to get much information. The ME had the bodies and he had no real standing in the Clan. In fact, he was barely tolerated...barely cared anyway, just enough to keep the elders off his back and out of his business.

He cared now. Oh, not because he couldn't replace another breather babe.

Because she was HIS. The rage swept over him again, and he growled deep in his throat. His ladies were all in the living room, as far away from his den of rage as they could be without offending him.

But he was already offended.

A couple of phone calls to Kindred of his acquaintance - a Brujah, a low-ranking Toreador - turned up the existence of some kind of gathering tomorrow night, something to do with the murders. Ten PM, Smithsonian Annex 1, elysium. He didn't much care about the other deaths...but he could fake it well enough. And he knew common cause when he saw it.

He had a party to crash.

[Vortigern]

Rurik lingers for a moment over the files as his annoyance or indeed even anger bubbled deep within. Outside however he was his usual calm self, a hand brushing over the folders absently before his eyes came up to meet those of the kine. He would get rid of this one and get to work. "Go. And tell my Lord Prince Vitel I am honored to serve him in this matter, as always." There. A gesture to the niceties of the modern breed. He could be diplomatic when he needed to be could he not?

Afterward the servant of Vitel departed the files are copied, deconstructed, and diagramed one at a time. If one were to walk into his workroom it would look much like a scene from a detective movie, with pictures and notes placed seemingly at random but actually quite purposefully onto one of the walls. In the center there was a blank space. This would not be filled until they knew more about the actual enemy. When he speaks it is in Danish and to his own most favored mortal servant, his secretary. "Jensine, get me all of the records on these locations and names during the day tomorrow. If you have time, go ahead and diagram them and I'll review your work when I wake. Have Henrik unpack his things as well, we are definately here to stay for the duration and I shall be armed tomorrow. Have Pedar assist you in your own task." he says.

[Wired*Nun]

"Yes, my lord archon." The nameless servant bows to Rurik again, and departs.

Organizing the files, and copying them so that he could post his own version on the walls, takes most of the night. He has to believe the instruction to bring the files to the meeting was not an afterthought, and he might be expected to return them there. Keeping his own copies was simply prudent. His own retainers were efficient, by the standards of kine...more so than some younger Kindred, he had to admit. He conserved them carefully, as fleeting but valuable assets in a fast-changing world. Fortunately he could offer them a lengthened lifespan, even the possibility of Embrace if they served him well. Both of these benefits aided him as well...they stayed motivated.

The next evening the information was as complete as could be expected. Printouts from city and county records on the buildings and locations, photographs of the crime scenes, preliminary Medical Examiner reports, Unfortunately, there were no particular anomalies that struck him right away. The locations of the murders formed no graphic pattern that he could see. There was no particular connection among owners of the locations, nor did correlated reports of bystanders show any commonality. The times of discovery varied widely, from the immediacy of the defenestration to the delay of the decapitations almost twenty hours later.

There simply seemed no connection, other than the peculiar one-to-one correlation of Kindred to Kine, and the apparently deliberate variance in their methods of execution.

Something tickles at his mind, but did not surface. Perhaps later. He would let it alone for now.

A couple of hours of frustrating study later, he has to face the fact that he had made little progress. Almost nine, and the meeting is fast approaching. He wants to be prepared.

[Vortigern]

[Please do not mass-quote the entire paragraph, especially if it is immediately preceding- GM]

If the murders were perpetrated by Kindred, as he suspected, one of the actors could be in the very meeting he was to attend. That was a possibility he did not ignore, given how only rudimentarily familiar he was with the population of this city. Therefore he decided that he would arrive slightly early, and through one of the many service tunnels of the sprawling institute. A lesson learned long ago was that to be seen coming and going revealed any importance attached to a location.

Before departing he donned his flak vest and then prepared his weaponry with the assistance of Henrik. His armorer was a skilled older man in his apparent fifties, though slowly regaining his vitality thanks to the Blood. The german was still a frail one, but his weapons were not. He served his purpose and that was all Rurik asked of anyone. The assortment of implements and munitions that Henrik provided was well worth the effort of retaining him.

After his arrival Rurik proceeded directly to the assigned meeting place and prepared for the arrival of the others.

[ikay]

Christiaan looks at von Damme. Strange to see the normally business-like vampire so ruffled. Nodding confidently, he answers simply: “Selbsverständlich, no problem.”

In his head, however, the thoughts were racing. He’s heard about the ‘deaths’, of course. Well, murders, really, weren’t they? Why me? Not my area. Do they want to spin this? Or is this some kind of test? I’ll ‘volunteer’, all right, there little else to do. I’ve got sort of a personal interest anyway. ‘Join’ the inquiry means there are others. Well, this does need looking into. If they send relatively minor pawns such as myself, I wonder what the priority in this deal is. Best not draw conclusions before I have more information.

A belated thought comes and goes in a hundredth of a second. As long as nobody thinks I’ve had anything to do with it. Well, the only way to find out is to go ahead.

However, he’d rather be caught dead – again- then show these thoughts. So he decides to handle it like any other case. “Very well, I assume I will get more information tomorrow? Do you know who else will be there?

He waits to see whether von Damme has anything to add before rising to take his leave. “Unless there is anything else, I’d better start instructing Stefan.

As he walks to his own desk, Christiaan mentally reviews what he knows about the murders. It wasn’t much, although he has of course heard about them. What with Raoul one of the victims, it created more of an impression then such an event normally would.

He gathers his papers, jotting down some last notes so Stefan can pick up easy, he did actually start to look forward to it. His face is impassive, but his blue eyes betray a smile. A change of pace, something new, even if it’s a test, a challenge isn’t so bad. I’d like to get more involved, anyway. And it would be nice to find the one responsible.

He drops of his files at Stefan’s desk, taking the time to go over the particulars with his colleague. After talking the case over, Christiaan also sends him the files he still has on his computer.

His case-load taken care of, Christiaan decides to walk by von Damme’s office, before heading out into the night to see if there are any last minute additions or ideas.

Then he goes to his haven. His apartment betrays his European roots; relatively empty by American standards, none of the brique-a-braque that can clutter a space up. Well-made furniture and lots of books. He hasn’t been here long yet, but he likes it well enough.

He find Nicolás doing some paperwork, surprised that Christiaan is back already. Christiaan motions for him to stay put. He addresses his Argentine aide in Spanish: “Von Damme had a request. It seems I’ve volunteered to be part of the inquiry surrounding the inauguration murders.”

Nicólas, one of those South-Americans that clearly have Spanish blood, looks slightly startled as his black eyes widened. The fact that he had lost a lot of the archetypical hot-headedness over the last years shows in his initial reply. “Raoul?”

Christiaan shrugs. “Well, more his lover, I think. What was her name again? And the other ones might matter as much or more to those in charge. You know how it is.”

“Maxina, and there could still be a connection.” Nicolás is angry about the murder, lips pursed and large eyes fiery. “I’m glad something’s going to be done. Who-ever it was, we’ll get him.”

Christiaan nods with a small smile. We, is it? “I’ll learn more tomorrow. Make sure my clothing and personal effects are in order, will you?”

He spends the rest of the night preparing in the best way he knows how; checking various internet-sites for more information about the murders, looking up the mentioned locations on the map (he hasn’t been in DC all that long). He cleans his gun, just in case he might need it, although he doubts they’re dealing with a killer, or more probably killers, that would be much affected by a gun.

The next day, he arrives at Annex no. 1 at 9.45 pm, alone, wearing a dark grey suit an carrying a small attaché case. He has no idea what to expect, but looks calm none the less.

[Darqueone]

Tatyana taps the note against her lower lip, then absently uses Auspex (2 dots) on the paper. Not really expecting anything, but it never hurts...

Oh dear.

She summons Benedict again, and gives him instructions. Prepare the jet, pack, identify and equip the accompanying staff, acquire appropriate gifts, establish a secure Haven.

Jean-Claude, Ended, hm? Dear me. And I am summoned... hm. She re-reads. Not summoned, per se, by Prince Vitel at all. Just summoned, by person or persons unknown... and for no stated purpose. Certainly with the impression of being called by or for the Prince of Washington D.C. Interesting. What on earth would anyone want or need me there for, in this matter?

When was the last time I saw Jean-Claude? She searches quickly and efficiently for the correct volume. Yes, here...hm. After the wedding, Antonious took him off to... oh.

Was there ... yes... Another quick search. Oh dear, yes. Ousted by the Primogen after that, and ... disgrace... moved to America. Hm. Surprised that didn't kill him stone dead right there.

She puts the books back slowly, thinking. After that... I think there was a rumor about him going slowly to pieces, as the older ones sometimes do. Reclusive, but... the same could be said about me. Rumors are useful, but not entirely trustworthy.

She regards the card again, pensively. Hmmmm.....

She summons Benedict again, and issues a second set of instructions; a Will update, decoy possibilities, security procedures, intelligence drop-boxes and several information-based dead-man switches.

She moves on with the rest of the evening to prepare for the journey, and reports on time at the Annex. She leaves her personnel and most of the equipment in the car, taking (with some resigned discomfort) one of these 'cell-phones' to use as communication, and dressed impeccably.

[Wired*Nun]

Thoroughly equipped with the sturdy modern equivalents of knights' garb, Rurik glides quietly through the back ways into the Institute. The comes a point outside the annex where he would have to choose among disabling a retainer, causing a major distraction, or simply demanding admittance. He chose the latter. The armed guard glances briefly at some kind of data device, then nods in acknowledgment and smoothly lets Rurik pass. Rurik's thoughts are of approval. The man is obviously well-trained. Had he not been, his employment, perhaps his life, might have been terminated.

The man points the way to the conference room where the meeting is being held.

******************************************

Thomas replies to Christiaan's questions soothingly. "I don't know, really, what is going on. I got the strong impression I wasn't supposed to ask. They will tell you everything there." Von Damme shuts the door behind Christiaan as he leaves, and he hears the lock click.

After turning over his caseload to Stefan, then goes back by his boss' office. The door is still locked, and his secretary says he does not want to be disturbed. He listens to the news on the way back to his place, picking up the latest. There is no mention of Selwyn and Dominic's deaths, though the other ones are all over the news, and the unmentioned ones were known to the Kindred grapevine. His preparations at his home are thorough, and he awakes the next evening refreshed and ready to go.

He arrives at the parking lot, where Ventrue retainers are much in evidence, some dressed as private security, some nonuniformed. He hands his keys to the valet and walks in the front door. He is directed through two more checkpoints to a conference room deep inside the annex.

********************************

Auspex on the note reveals a blur, some kind of deliberate obfuscation. Still, Tatyana is sure, perhaps from unconscious memory, that the writer is male, elder, kindred, relatively non-inimical, and she has met him somewhere before...long ago.

The preparations go smoothly, of course. Her people were always efficient. She feels a stirring of interest as she lifts off in the G5 for the short hop from Boston to Reagan National. One couldn't get much closer to the center of power than that little concrete slab on the banks of the Potomac. She double-checks with Benedict to make sure the flight crew has the very latest procedures. It just wouldn't do to be blown out of the sky by an Avenger missile on approach to the Capital. She would probably survive the crash, but it would absolutely ruin her outfit.

A limousine ride later she steps out onto the curb of the Annex. She can see evidence of heavy security, Kindred and retainers both. Reassuring. At least she would only have to worry about internal threats, short of another war. The chill winter breeze reminds her of old times and her dacha near St. Petersburg.

She follows behind a trim, young-looking dark-haired Kindred, impeccably dressed in European business attire, carrying an attache case, who had debouched at the curb right before her. They are directed into a conference room deep inside the annex, behind more layers of security. Her smart phone beeps, telling her it has lost connection. Perhaps they have a jammer going. As she looks at the disconnected thing, a large, impressive-looking Kindred, bulky in a tailored jacket not quite managing to conceal armaments lurking underneath, comes in the door after her. He is tall, with white-blonde hair and nordic feature, icy blue eyes and a hard look.

*********************************

Inside, the three see a well-appointed conference room seating perhaps ten at the table and possibly twenty more around the walls. There are a scattering of kindred and retainers in the room, none of whom she recognizes right away. Prince Vitel is definitiely not in attendance. It's about ten minutes until the meeting time, and after a glance or two no one pays the trio any mind.

[I will need to post more with my books available later on today, PCs feel free to introduce yourselves to each other]

[Darqueone]

Tatyana automatically gives the icy stranger a respectful berth, intuitively sensing his age and power. Not on a level with the Prince, she notes but certainly a Force.

She scans the room and takes a seat near what seems to be the foot of the table. She smoothes her skirt as she sits, crossing her legs, and uses her mudane and Kindred senses to their best advantage, along with a woman's sense of the mood and tone in the room... all the while, doing her best to remain calm, alert, and pleasantly blank.

OOC (Let me know if we want rolls for this, I'm thinking a combination of Auspex, empathy, alertness, manipulation, so on...)

[Wired*Nun]

[we'll be using as few rolls as possible...I'll let you know.]

Tatyana quickly pinpoints the nexi in the room - two Kindred. The seven or eight others are keying off of them, and are unimportant, aside from the other two arrivals.

One nexus is a short brunette woman, wearing designer jeans, expensive faux-military boots, and a pricey designer copy of a classic lumberjack plaid. She is deep in conversation with a breather, who has the singleminded look of a military operative, along with the hardware. She suspects this is Katrina Dobson, Prince Vitel's good right hand.

The other one looks like a Toreador - slightly flashy in his expensive garb, lithe and obviously the benificiary of some very good cosmetic surgery. He is holding court, chatting with a group of admirers about jazz music.

Everyone is remarkably relaxed for what she would have thought was a serious gathering.

[Darqueone]

Interesting. I'd thought Dobson to be Ventrue, and she's dressed like a well-domesticated Gangrel... and then she very purposefully stops thinking about the woman, speculating instead on the likely-Torey.

Toreador... here because of Jean-Claude? Likely. Hm. She feels the implications of her presence here as related to this Rose begining to make themselves into actual thoughts, and again, carefully distracts herself by looking around the room.

Who are these other players, then?

[Benicus]

The rage never subsides. Grudges run deep in Patrick's skin, fueling his blood, scarring his veins and coursing throughout his person. Even after bathing with his entourage and dressing in his finest Armani, black on black tie, he could hardly control himself. Patrick checks the clock, ten minutes until the meet. He smiles coldly as he finished tying the tie around his throat and grabbing an overcoat. The cure for the rage was simple, vengeance was needed. Tonight a message would be sent that Patrick was dying to remind the resident Kindred of D.C. of : Don't fuck with me. And to think, I used to be such a nice guy. The grin didn't come off his face till he reached the door to the meet.

[Wired*Nun]

Patrick's entourage fall silent as he exits his luxurious residence. They are obviously relieved he won't be bringing them along, though in truth he wouldn't harm a hair on any of their heads. As long as none of them had anything to do with it.

The retainers at the front door of the Annex barely have time to get out of the way of the angry Kindred. Once inside, though he has a certain difficulty. He is not sure where inside the large building this meeting is taking place; retainers with a rather disconcerting array of weapons are warily surrounding him from well out of reach; and at least two of them are making reports into communication devices.

**************************

Inside the conference room, there's a buzz from Katrina's handset. Apparently the report is of concern, for she grabs the ghoul she had been speaking with by the back of the body armor and propels him toward the door. She then turns to the tall blonde Kindred that recently arrived.

"Rurik, there may be a problem at the front entrance. There's an uninvited guest...bring him here if he has a good reason and behaves himself. Otherwise, feel free to send him away."

[Darqueone]

Tatyana notes the icy blonde as, yes, definately ranking or an authority here. Uninvited guest? Hm.

She watches the tall blonde react and leave, unobtrusively using Auspex to glean what she can.

[Wired*Nun]

Katrina is concerned, but not afraid, as are the others around the room. Rurik's aura shows him to be calm and focused. Were he mortal, she doesn't think his heart rate would have jumped one point.

[Darqueone]

Icy, indeed...

[Benicus]

"Hello," Patrick states, oddly calm considering his current mood, to the guards, "I believe there is a meeting going on. You're going to take me to it."

[ikay]

Christiaan quickly notices that the attractive woman who arrived shortly after he did is ushered down the same path as he is. He doesn’t know here, however, and for now decides to just let things happen as they do.

There are several people already in the conference room as he enters. He takes a quick look around, small smile on his lips that never reaches his eyes. Is there anyone here he knows? Can he guess at the importance of this gathering and of the ‘people’ in it?

As he takes a seat, the woman enters, followed quickly by a Scandinavian looking vampire. Rurik, apparently, as he is quickly send out again to deal with some kind of intruder. Well, he certainly looks capable enough.
Lest he’s caught in the thought he bow his head, placing his suitcase at his feet. Coming back up, he adjusts his cufflinks and sits calmly. He concentrates on keeping his mind blank but perceptive and his posture looking confident.

[Wired*Nun]

"Hello," Patrick states, oddly calm considering his current mood, to the guards, "I believe there is a meeting going on. You're going to take me to it."


One of the retainers, probably the one in charge, licks his lips nervously, then replies, "I'm very sorry, sir, but we have orders to wait here. Someone will be coming soon to escort you."

He hears the sound of running feet, and another breather enters the room from deeper in the building, in a tactical crouch, submachinegun to shoulder. This one makes a quick scan of the room before straightening. He keeps the weapon glued to his shoulder and pointed center-mass at Patrick. He doesn't look at all afraid. Patrick has heard that Katrina Dobson, Vitel's second-in-command, keeps a special ghoul squad of special-operations types...this looks to be one of them.

[We need a post from Rurik. He can enter the scene with Patrick right behind the shooter.]

*************************************

Christiaan sees Katrina Dobson and Cohn Rose there, along with a couple Kindred of no note and several sycophants and servants. Rose hardly misses a beat when Katrina sends the operatives off, though he does look around when it happens. He gives Christiaan a pleasant nod - Christiaan knows that Rose is as much a public-relations specialist as he is, in quite a different way.

Rose looks Tatyana over then, and though his smooth smile doesn't change, both Christiaan and Tatyana get the impression he's processing her presence there, that it was perhaps unexpected. He nods a greeting, then goes back to his jazz ruminations without missing a beat.

Christiaan has heard Rurik's name - some kind of heavy problem-solver for Vitel.

[This would be a great time for Christiaan and Tatyana to get acquainted, if you could find an excuse, as the other two deal with their scene]

[Darqueone]

Hm. Was that recognition, or a non-plussed expression? She keeps her own expression carefully interested only in the milling around of the room, pleasantly engaged in the goings-on.

She notes the man this Toreador greeted silently, and casts Auspex on him.

Young, I think. European, or his tailor is. I think the former.

[Vortigern]

Rurik simply nods at Katrina and moves out the door, falling in behind the retainer who takes the lead. He follows, noting the properly prepared entrance he makes with a nod of approval and a pat on his shoulder. High praise from Rurik.

Rurik did not enter with a weapon at the ready himself, yet nor does he approach nearer than by the retainers side. He stands impassively for a moment, looking the new arrival over before bowing slightly in greeting as he speaks. "I am Rurik, Gentry of the line of Anundr. I am given to know that you wish to attend this gathering, though you are uninvited. The deciding of the matter has been given to me. I would know you, your lineage, and your claim to standing in this matter before we proceed."

As he finishes speaking the blonde man runs one hand up to brush his hair behind his ears, the other unbuttoning his suit jacket. To most a gesture of informality, to Rurik... clearing the path of his hand to his weapon and a veiled threat. The subtlety may be lost on some, yet probably not on all.

[ikay]

Christiaan pleasantly returns Rose’s nod, then follows his glance to the woman that entered about the same time he did. That’s an interesting reaction…
It appears she has noticed him as well, so he nods in her direction, before getting up and sauntering over, curious about whomever draws Rose’s interest.

He stops next to her chair. “It seems we are the odd ones out, sitting all by ourselves. It’s not a bad thing, every now and then, but I thought I could at least come and introduce myself,” he says with a hint of a smile around his mouth. “My name is Christiaan van der Luyden.”

He awaits her reaction standing. If she wants to be alone, he’ll retreat back to his seat without problem. If she holds out a hand, he’ll kiss it or shake it, depending on the way she holds it. He probably won’t sit unless invited, or if conversation would get awkward if he kept standing.

As for what she might read; young seems a good guess. With his name and the hint of accent he has, European is a given. He’s mostly calm, with a hint of excitement, which seems to be more directed towards the gathering then her personally.
[I don’t know how much of this Tatyana will get with her Auspex, so use or ignore what you like :)]

[Darqueone]

Tatyana is aware of his approach, but doesn't watch. When he addresses himself to her, she gives him her attention.

She nods in acknowledgement of his introduction. "Dama Tatyana von Thorncliff." She does not offer her hand, as he did not offer his. "You're very kind, to welcome a stranger... but, you are not a stranger yourself?"

Her voice is pleasant, and thick wtih a Russian accent; hearing her speak is like bathing in a warm bowl of borscht.

[Benicus]

Patrick grits his teeth until he thinks his lower jaw would crack. He retains his smile as he eyeballs the newcomer. "Rurik, right? My name is Patrick Seamus James. Here's how this situation is going to unfold itself in the next few minutes. You are going to call whomever you decide to report to and confirm that mortals are being murdered like its Vlad the Impaler's birthday. The next thing you're going to do is take me into whichever hallway the rest of your friends are lying in and then your going to leave."

[Vortigern]

Rurik turns his head slightly, looking askance at Patrick for a moment. "If that is all you have to say, you are denied entry. You may go, I have no further need to interview you at this time. Or you may answer my original query. Declare your lineage and the nature of your standing in this matter, or be gone. If you refuse, I will remove you." As he speaks he moves languidly over to stand at a right angle to Patrick with the ghoul gunman. This is a tactical move which, if Patrick knows enough of gunplay to recognize the fact, places him in a 'crossfire' with the two should actual violence occur. The ghoul almost certainly will catch it.

[Benicus]

"You must be new here. I have heard you are Vitel's new muscle..." Patrick was about to say Looks like he bought all brawn, no brains. But looking over to the Ghoul he figured the best way to get to the meeting quickest would be to just say the truth. His impotence in the situation irked him and prodded his rage further. Don't let it maroon you, keep it under control.

"One of my playthings was murdered on the 20th, I know it wasn't the only one that was killed. I am Ventrue." You are meat shield for a cowardly prince.

Patrick smiles again. "Now can I come in and play?"

[ikay]

He files her name away for future reference and inclines his head once more. “My pleasure. If we have to wait for proceedings to start, we might as well wait together, after all. I’ve been in Washington for a couple of months, so I am a stranger as well. Have you been here long?”

He keeps his question open on purpose, so she can answer as vaguely as she wishes. Christiaan’s voice is polite and rather friendly. He’s obviously just making light conversation and is still ready to walk off if the lady, the dama, gives any inclination that his presence is unwanted.

[Darqueone]

She gestures graciously to a chair as invitation. "Hours. I am not usually found in so rarified circles." Her gaze scans the room once more, casually watching the ebb and flow of conversation and movement. "I admit I find myself a bit out of my depth. I'm not sure I expected such numbers..."

[Wired*Nun]

Christiaan notes the anomalies in her introduction - Russian title, Russian first name, the aristocratic German "von," the English or Anglicized "Thorncliff" - might it have been "Dornklippe" sometime in the past? He's not sure what significance they have.

[ikay]

Christiaan sits, in the process turning the chair slightly, so he can see both her and keep a half-eye on the rest of the room. For now, however, he seems to give her his full attention.

“It seems we have even more in common then, for I didn’t either,” he pauses and casts his eyes downward as if thinking a moment. Then he meets her eyes again with a half-smile; “Then again, I really didn’t know what to expect.”
Who knows what such honesty may bring me…

Christiaan considers, as he has done often before, that these kinds of conversations are easier for mortals. Apart from everything else, for them it’s so much easier to just order some drinks to break the ice. He will not ask about the name and title she gave him, that would be very impolite. Then again, so do most of the little questions one asks to get to know another. Being introduced properly is so much easier. Still, he has to say something. “Do you know Mr. Rose?” His eyes briefly move to the man that acknowledged her before Christiaan came over, before looking at her again. It’s an innocent enough question, after all, Rose is known to quite a lot of people.

[Darqueone]

"This sort of ... gathering... often leads to the unexpected." she smiles thinly and pauses a longer moment than Christiaan did. "Being so recently arrived, I'm afraid I'm behind on the local news... is there anything you might share?"

"Mr.... Rose?" she clarifies with a glance at the jazz afficianado "You say, his name is Rose? Pardon, sometimes my English ... I must clarify."

[ikay]

What… I am at the right spot, am I not? For a brief moment, Christiaan has visions of having stumbled in to the wrong place, the wrong group of people.
When he speaks, there’s just a hint of a question in his voice. “I actually don’t know much more then what has been in the news.”

He looks at her a beat, unsure what to say. Most of the gathered here will know as much or probably more then he does, and he will sound like a pedantic fool reciting the same old facts. Then again, if she truly doesn’t know, he’ll come over excessively secretive if he doesn’t share the commonly know facts. So… “You have heard about the Inauguration Murders?”

“Yes, the Tremere who greeted you, Mr. Cohn Rose. Rose is his last name.” He obviously knows who you are.

[Darqueone]

She watches him pleasantly, blankly... someone who's been here hours and may not be a current events junkie past, say, Napoleon's invasion of Moscow.

Ah, one of those Tremere... Her smile brightens slightly at the clarification. "Ah! No, I cannot say we've been introduced. Perhaps you could...?"

[ikay]

Christiaan’s face is pleasantly neutral as he answers. “Well, once again, I know very little, so stop me if I’m boring you. On Inauguration Day, this last 20th,” he assumes she has heard of that event, but refrains from checking, “several distinctive murders took place. Five, or actually ten, as far as I know. Five kindred, and a mortal companion for each, and all in a way that seems… excessive. One notable thing is that these deaths took place in a very short span of time.”

While he speaks, he looks at her, for reactions of course, but also to check whether he should expand. [If she seems disinterested, ignore the rest of the paragraph] Assuming she wants more information, he adds the names of the kindred, once again looking closely for a reaction. “The ones that were killed are Jean-Claude Reynaude, Swann, Dominic Kellough, Maxina Lunmila and Cristobal Tejon-Pascuale. In response, Prince Vitel ordered an inquiry, which, I believe, is the reason for this get-together.” Smiling slightly, he adds. “Of course, now I’m wondering how you came to be here if you didn’t know all this…”



Ah, one of those Tremere... Her smile brightens slightly at the clarification. "Ah! No, I cannot say we've been introduced. Perhaps you could...?"


“Of course, would you like to go over there now, or would you rather wait ‘till after the proceedings?” Christiaan is nothing if not polite, and also curious about this meeting. After all, Rose did give her that look.

[Vortigern]

Ruriks eyes narrow as he shifts on his feet turning in his stance to be square with Patrick once again. His hands come up to button his coat now, then he walks forward. Approaching Patrick he speaks softly, reaching out to 'adjust' the other Ventrue's coat rather roughly and in emphasis of his words before smoothing out the shoulders. "When refering to one of a station ~above~ ones own, especially by such a ~vast~ degree, it is proper form to use all protocols and titles involved. My Lord Prince Vitel is, I am quite certain, in agreement. But yes. Vengeance for a slain Retainer is a motivation I can understand. You must wish to answer the blow, of course. It would have been better mannered, and more courtly, if you could have expressed your position in a more genial manner before. All of this could have been avoided. I will permit you entry." As he finishes Rurik smiles a cold smile at Patrick, stepping back and turning on heel to begin walking back towards the meeting. "Follow."

[Darqueone]

Her expression is interested as he briefs her, and she certainly accepts the additional information. "An inquiry? Hm." She pauses to think, then answers his question almost absently.

"I recieved an invitation... not an explanation. Elders of Prince Vitel's stature need supply none; one accepts. Or does not, I suppose, at one's own detriment. We Ventrue respect and obey our Elders, so... here I am."

After another short pause, she nods. "If you would be so kind, I would gladly accompany you for an introduction." With a smile.

(She and Christiaan rise and move to meet Cohn Rose...?)

[Benicus]

Patrick brings his arms up to shove the retainer off. After that movement he backed away a few steps, trying to not act menacing but only asserting himself within the situation. He may be a comparable pleb, but he was still not a dog. Close quarters vexed him. After the movement he brings himself into a laughably low bow, an exaggerated position of respect almost made satiric. "Lead on." Patrick says, a small toothless grin coming over his face. He rises once more and meets the Kindred face to face before following him forward, ever glancing back to the Ghoul Squad behind.

[Vortigern]

Rurik re-enters the meeting silently, moving over to stand near where he did before ( by Katrina ). His movements are crisp and purposeful until he arrives where he nods towards Katrina. Clasping his hands behind his back he turns to look over the other attendees, interest obvious in his expression for a moment.

[ikay]

Thinking back on how he came to be here, how he was ‘volunteered’ by von Damme, Christiaan has to agree. “Yes, we Ventrue do.” His tone of voice is dry, letting a hint of laughter shine through. It clashes with the fact that his smiles almost never seem to reach his eyes. He just seems a bit detached.

However, when she smiles at him, he gladly returns it, rising by way of invitation. He helps her with her chair, a formal gesture, as he quickly re-buttons his jacket with his left hand. Another old-fashioned move follows as he offers her his arm to cross the small distance to the other side of the table where Rose and his audience are.

“I hope you like jazz,” he says as they walk over there. Christiaan himself does, and he must admit Rose is a great conversationalist, on that subject as well as on most others.

Rose isn’t Ventrue, but Christiaan expects him to acknowledge their presence. The moment the man does so he inclines his head slightly. A nod, really. “Mr. Rose, I would like to present Dama Tatyana von Thorncliff.” He decides to leave it at that, interested in observing what will happen next.

[Darqueone]

"Jazz..." she muses. It's a kind of music, yes?

Tatyana waits until Mr. Rose acknowledges her.

[Wired*Nun]

Cohn Rose turns to the two as they approach, with a precise smoothness that, now that Tatyana knows he is no Toreador, fits with her impression of Temere obsessiveness. In her experience, that conservatism sometimes masks secret neuroses and coping mechanisms bordering on the Malkavian.

Rose reaches, smoothly, almost negligently shaking hands with Christiaan. "Mister van der Luyden. Thomas informed me that you would be joining us here. Thank you for consenting to take this assignment." His voice is warm, rich, elegant. A Tremere who likes to play Toreador with the manners of a Ventrue...evidence of brilliance or a divided mind?

Upon being introduced to Tatyana, he fixes her with an expression of delight, reaching for her hand, which if she permits, he will almost-kiss in proper old-world style. In passable modern Russian, he goes on. "Dama von Thorncliff. My name is Cohn Rose, representing the Chantry of the District of Columbia, Peter Dorfman Prime. So good to meet you at last. I heard tell that you had been invited, but I was unsure if you would be available. Such a tragic event, is it not? The untimely passing of such a distinguished man as Reynaude." He looks at her expectantly.

[we will wait one more iteration of posts at least from Christiaan and Tatyana before the other two enter]

[ikay]

Christiaan shakes hands with Rose, making all the right sounds about it being only natural, wanting to help and such. He keeps it brief, as the other’s interest is clearly not on him. He also greets the other kindred that are standing there.

He’s amused, but not surprised by elegance and smoothness of the way Rose greets Tatyana. Impressive, at least he wants to be. I thought Dorfman said no-one important was hurt, but her hook is Reynaude. Hmm, I really should find out more about this lady.

He keeps standing by, observing. After all, he’s not going anywhere, might as well make it literally true.

[Darqueone]

Tatyana focuses on Rose, carefully keeping mind blank of her in-depth personal opinions of the Tremere.

She allows his kiss, and drops a small curtsey in response; nothing too formal, but an acknowledgement. She squeezes his fingertips briefly before they part hands. In Russian, she repsonds. "Mr. Rose, the pleasure is mine. I have too long delayed visiting this remarkable, powerful place for a proper visit. Indeed, I wish it could have been in happier circumstances! I'm sure we're all impoverished by the loss of Jean-Claude, as well as the others who were taken. Shocking, absolutely shocking business. When I recieved my invitation, of course I felt I had to come." She smiles sadly.

[Wired*Nun]

In French he says, "Ahh, but nothing like Paris," apropos of nothing really. He switches to English, which sounds more like his native language, in the British sense. "It looks like the festivities are about to start."

He gestures toward the main door, where Rurik and Patrick have made their entrance. The heavily armed ghoul looks in the portal, makes eye contact with Katrina, then steps back outside and closes the door.

[To be clear, this particular ghoul was the only one who seemed to be one of Katrina's special ones. The others are the usual bodyguards-cum-servants that the leading clans of the city employ. One seems to be a well-dressed bruja ghoul, for example, others could be Ventrue, Tremere, etc.]

[Wired*Nun]

Rose looks over at Katrina for a moment, raising an eyebrow. Dobson nods, then moves briskly over to the head of the table. People begin to flow to seats, some at the table, some in the chairs that line the room's walls.

As soon as most are settled, Dobson speaks, raising her voice a trifle. "I am Katrina Dobson, and I speak for Prince Marcus Vitel. He welcomes everyone here, invited or not." Her glance does not quite stray to Patrick. "As do I. It has been suggested that an inquiry into the murders of Inauguration Day be undertaken."

"The mortal authorities are already devoting considerable resources to this, but in truth, we do not want them to be too successful. The presence of Kindred in each case threatens the Masquerade. Therefore their inquiries will sputter and die, as soon as that is reasonable."

"However our Prince and Primogen would like to know who was behind these events, especially because they have insulted the Traditions...and because he desires no more incidents. Someone has shown grave disrespect to our dominion, our fellow Kindred, and our property. But our purpose here is not vengeance...not yet. It is information." She smiles, wintry.

"Discussions among your elders has determined the following course of action. There shall be a small coterie of Kindred responsible for the inquiry. This now consists of Rurik here," gesturing toward that man, "whom you all know has the favor of the Prince for several minor problems he has solved over the last few months. Christiaan van der Luyden," indicating him "has been graciously seconded to us as well. I would like to also welcome the Lady Tatyana Romanova von Throncliff to this gathering. Because of her acquaintance with one of the deceased, and because of her particular resources, I hope that she will give up some of her valuable time to join the investigation, with true Ventrue noblesse oblige."

At this time she pointedly turns to Patrick. "I understand you also have an interest in getting to the bottom of things, and in seeing justice done?"

[Darqueone]

Tatyana smiles wryly at Rose's "Paris" comment, but makes no comment. She nods politely to Rose as she drifts back towards her seat at the end of the table where she settles.

As she's singled out for notice, she keeps a pleasant expression fixed to her face. Oh... goody. This is the only surface thought she allows herself, as she works to simply take in the information and not analyze. Yet. She nods acquiescence to Dobson's hope for Tatyana's involvement.

She, too, turns her attention to the most recent entry to the room.

[ikay]

When Rurik and Patrick enter and things start to move, Christiaan first escorts Tatyana back to her seat. He doesn’t sit down next to her, but returns to the chair where his briefcase still stands.

He listens to Dobson’s introduction, inclining his head a bit when the focus of the room briefly shifts his way. The next one in the spotlight is the Russian lady he’s just met. Ah, I was right, she has a personal interest.

It feels almost tedious to follow suit with the rest of the room, but he too is interested in what Mr. James has to say.

[Vortigern]

Rurik reaches into the seat reserved for himself and recovers his leather briefcase. Setting it on the meeting table he clicks it open and removes the casefiles, setting them down in front of his own position. Closing the case and setting it in the floor by his chair he then seats himself, arranging the files and reviewing their labelling etc. as Katrina speaks. When she inquires of Patrick his own eyes come up, turning towards the man who followed him into the room as well with a look loaded with expectation and evaluation, his brows raising and a firm set to his lips and mouth coming over his expression.

[Benicus]

"One of my..." Patrick trails off for a moment thinking of the correct word. He did not want to be as crass to all the Ventrue as he was in his first encounter with Rurik, most in the city already knew his positions and his personality. These people would not be needing a reminder on how one of their own most...special characters interacted. "...friends, was killed. I don't like having things taken from me, it vexes my decade."

Patrick smiles and moves to the back edge of the room near a wall and leans up against it. He liked attention but this was beginning to make him claustrophobic. "I will help in any way possible. For the Masquerade and...yeah."

[Darqueone]

Oh dear....

[Vortigern]

Rurik takes a deep breath, finishing his arrangement of the files in front of him. Most of the breath is let out before he speaks, a roll of his shoulders along with his words. "Mr. James has lost a retainer, a retainer that he valued. His cause for vengeance is just and seemly, even if his words are not. I find him to have standing in this matter. Do any disagree?" When he is finished he looks around the room to gauge the reactions of the others, eventually eyes coming back to rest on Katrina once again.

[Darqueone]

Tatyana does not speak, finding it best to allow her silence to imply consent.

[ikay]

Of course not, sounds like a swell addition to the Coterie, Christiaan thinks sarcastically. He considers speaking up; after all, he’s one of the ones that will be working with the guy. Then again, so is Rurik. If the elder Ventrue speaks for James, who is Christiaan to disagree?

So in the end, he doesn’t speak, meeting Rurik’s look square but expressionless.

[Wired*Nun]

"We are happy to have mister James cooperating with the Prince's wishes in this matter," responds Dobson smoothly. "I will now give the floor to mister Rose. I have some matters to attend to. Ladies, gentlemen..." She departs with alacrity...one might almost say with relief. Two Kindred and a retainer depart with her. Those with heightened senses, such as Tayana, hear one of the unnamed Kindred across the room mumble something about "night skiiing again."

Rose rises to take her former place standing at the head of the table. "Thank you," he says to Katrina on her way out. Once the door closes, he turns to the rest. His voice is cultured, his accent a sort of mixture between British and genteel American Southern. "Mister Svendsen has been provided with some files we have compiled on the killings in question. While far from complete, they do provide a starting point." He pulls out a wallet from his jacket pocket, and deals, like poker, several oversized business cards to the four principal investigators. His name, an office address and a phone number are printed in gold ink on the frosted red-and-black slick paper.

"I am your liaison to the Chantry...my lord Prince expects you to use your own resources, but if there is something beyond your abilities, something extraordinary we can provide, please, please hesitate to ask." He smiles at his own joke.

"If you must overcome your hesitation, call me at this number and I will see what I can do." He stops for a moment.

"Lest that seem coldhearted, here..." he takes a thin stack of papers from an aide, "is a list of approved contacts within several organizations - the Medical Examiner's office, the Police Department, Public Records and so on. You are to use Miss Dobson's name if you contact any of these people; simply tell them you work for her." He slides the papers to the principals as well. "But the Chantry, as usual, wishes to be very circumspect." It's hard to tell if that's an implied criticism, or merely an acknowledgment.

[I am going to leave this list vague so that in future you can "find" a contact on it if you need to and I deem it reasonable. Note that these contacts are all local or District, never Federal. Federal agencies such as FBI, CIA, NSA, etc are very sensitive and are also heavily infiltrated by undesirables like Mage Technomancers, New World Order, etc, and are only dealt with normally by Elders.]

"Here are some instructions for you. Once we leave, and you are alone, you may open it." He places a piece of parchment on the desk in front of himself, evidently folded on itself in the old style, sans envelope, then sealed with wax the color of blood.

"Do you have any further questions?" His manner, though suave, seems to indicate he would rather they didn't.

[Vortigern]

Rurik stands at the conclusion, accepting the business card with a nod of his head, and surveys the others to see if they have questions though also it seems with an expectation that they have none. He lifts the files and has them at hand, waiting for the Tremere to depart.

[Darqueone]

Tatytana takes the offered card, stands as well, and waits with a pleasant smile.

[ikay]

Christiaan accepts the papers given to him, carefully repressing any thoughts about them or the way they look. He looks them over briefly before looking up and finding that both Rurik and Tatyana are standing, so he gets up as well, a small shake of his head indicating to Rose that he has no questions at the moment.

[Benicus]

Patrick, still standing, takes the paper without a nod of approval. He looks genially at the host and shakes his head indicating he needs nothing further.

[Wired*Nun]

"Then I will leave you to it." Rose takes his entourage with him, shutting the door behind him, leaving the four alone in the room.

[Darqueone]

Tatyana looks around the room at each ... Person ... And then directs her attention directly to Rurik, the icy blonde.

[ikay]

Christiaan taps his papers on the table so they form a neat stack. He takes a longish look at Patrick, a shorter one at Tatyana and then looks at Rurik.

“And so, there are four.” he says. The Scandinavian, with his position of trust by Vitel seems to be the one to take charge. Also, he’s the only one with actual information. Christiaan is prepared to wait for him to say something as the four of them are standing in the now otherwise empty room.

[Wired*Nun]

Empty but for that piece of folded, sealed parchment.

[Darqueone]

As they stand, Tatyana's eye is caught by that parcment... she casts Auspex on it, just in case.

[Vortigern]

Rurik walks slowly and deliberately to the head of the table where he sets down the files next to the folded piece of paper. The paper he raises and holds before himself while he begins to read. Seperately he begins to speak. "These are the files on each incident as of yesterday evening. We of course intend to expand them. Greatly." When he is finished with the paper, Rurik will brief anything he considers pertinent out of it to the group and then begin briefing the files.

[Darqueone]

Tatyana, with whatever Auspex results she gleaned prior to Rurik's touching the parchment, seats herself to listen.

[ikay]

Christiaan raises an eyebrow before bending over to pick up his case and opens it on the table. He gets out a note-pad and a fountain pen. Re-placing the briefcase on the floor, he sits as well. So much for the formalities. Ah well, straight to business then.
He prepares on taking notes and so creating his own files.

[Wired*Nun]

[The paper is folded and sealed. Is Rurik breaking the seal, opening it and reading it?]

Auspex reveals nothing of note.

[Vortigern]

Yes, that was my intent.

[Wired*Nun]

When Rurik breaks the seal, there is an audible pop and a wisp of smoke rises from the wax seal. The paper unfolds of its own accord, leaving itself in a condition that would indicate to the unknowing eye that it had never been folded. It is about 12 by 20 inches in size.

Written in a precise and European hand is the following:

Thank you all for assenting to investigation of these intriguing crimes. Contained in the files that one of you possess are the elementary facts. Please share these files among yourselves. It is up to you to discover what is afoot.

Upon a shelf near the back of this room you will find what appears to be a copy of Dostoyevsky's "Crime and Punishment." It pages, are, however, blank.

Anything written in this book will be reproduced in its twin, which I possess, and vice-versa. In this manner we will communicate, for now. Report anything of note by this method. Likewise, make requests, and I will endeavour to assist you if I can.

- Menicus, Justicar

The book is eventually located, its cover printed in Cyrillic. Inside, as the note said, the pages are blank.

When Tatyana gets her turn to look at the note, she recognizes the handwriting. She remembers darkened rooms, candles, and a man - an Elder - who gave her advice, and assistance, from time to time. He called himself Thorne once, and perhaps something else before that. She remembers his profile - slim, acquiline, with high brow and piecing eyes. She laughed, then, later, at the transparent literary reference, but accepted it as some kind of affectation or cover.

[Darqueone]

She quirks a faint smile, runs an elegant index finger across the ink, and passes it on to the next person for examination.

She looks again to Rurik, waiting.

[Vortigern]

Rurik handles the 'communication' book with some interest for a moment, amusement playing across his features, before he sets it down in the center of the table. Then be briefs the contents of the files, completely, to the others. His manner is brusque and businesslike, moving along at a brisk pace. Still however, the files are extensive and the process likely takes some time. When he is finished he closes the files back and up and sets them beside the book in the center of the table with the book, folding his arms over his chest. "And that, my fellow gentry, is what we are given to know as of yet. Questions? Recommendations? Feel free to examine the files yourselves if you like." he says.

[Darqueone]

Without touching the files, Tatyana nods. "May we be provided copies of the files?" her accent colors the words "At your ease, of course. It is often better for me to read the English, in addition to hearing it read." she smiles self-depreciatingly "You understand."

"I am only hours arrived; Mr. van der Luyden was kind enough to inform me of current events. Are there other viewpoints that might be shared?" she looks around the table.

[Vortigern]

Rurik nods accomodatingly, gesturing towards the files with one hand. When he speaks now it is in Russian. "Of course. If you have any questions on the phrasing, you may confide, and have confidence, in me. A pleasure to meet you in any case." he says, his hand now coming to rest lightly on his chest in a gesture for emphasis. "And indeed, these are copies I produced for this meeting. If you wish you may have them, though I think the others would be keen for like materials." As he finishes he smiles, warmly even, amused it seems.

[Darqueone]

She nods, smiling with wry recognition. "Thank you, and likewise a pleasure." She switches back "But, we should use English I think?" with a glance at the others (who sit dumb with admiration and respect). "We will all have copies, then."

"First, if I may ask, are we all prepared to spend the evening working on this matter? Indeed, we were summoned for a meeting, and find ourselves in a conundrum instead. I have no matters pressing for my attention, but I am a stranger here; you all have investments in this city. Are your evenings free?"

[ikay]

While Tayana and Rurik are speaking Russian, Christiaan takes the time to look over the note and the book. He is careful to repress his thoughts, although the corner of his mouth curls a bit as he flips the pages of the Dostoyevsky dummy. He passes it on to Patrick and reaches idly for the files in the middle of the table.

She switches back "But, we should use English I think?" with a glance at the others (who sit dumb with admiration and respect). "We will all have copies, then."



Caught in mid-stretch, Christiaan answers; “Thank you, that would be a kindness. Unfortunately, I do not speak Russian. However, if it’s easier to switch languages every now and then, I’ve no problem with that.”


He picks up the top file, regardless of which one it is. “I would, indeed, like to have my own copies, or at least borrow some of these files. Sometimes it helps just re-reading matters.” He opens the file, but doesn’t look at for the moment, answering Tatyana’s question in stead.

“I’m free to pursue this case,” he smiles at the Russian lady. “I didn’t expect this to be over in a night, and now I’m even more sure of it. You have heard my viewpoint, limited as it is.”

He switches his glance to Rurik. “I’m not sure where to start with the questions, I feel the things that come to mind are the obvious ones and probably already answered. Nor do I have any recommendations.”

The tall man shrugs. "Frankly, I'm unsure where to start."

[Vortigern]

[OOC: I'm assuming two contacts from the list here. One is in the medical examiner's office and the other is a ranking guy in the murder unit. Retcon as you will if these are unacceptable? ]

Rurik smoothes the front of his jacket with one hand for a moment before nodding towards Christiaan. He now speaks English. "Well. There are several avenues of attack open to us, some of which are more likely to bear fruit, and risk, than others yet still we should pursue them all. However some are more time sensitive than others. Few things are lasting in this life. First. We should examine the remains and personal effects while they are still somewhat fresh and have been handled the least. Also the scenes of the killings. I think both, tonight. I am also interested in pursuing whatever records can be acquired concerning all of the victims and chattel involved. Then reconvene tomorrow evening and update our files, whereupon I can have copies produced for everyone in our little team. I think Dama Tatyana and I should begin with a trip to the medical examiner's office. Mr. James and Mr. Van Dur Luyden, I recommend beginning with an interview with our Agent in the mortal's murder investigation unit about their information thus far, and then proceed to the scenes. We likely will be along to join you two before you are finished with the first. I do not recommend any of us pursue the scenes without us all being present. There is the possibility of the enemy lying in wait for us, the expected response."

[Benicus]

Patrick stops staring out into space for a moment when Rurik says his name. After the enforcer is finished Patrick speaks softly, "I'm game for that."

[Darqueone]

Tatyana nods her acceptance of this plan.

[Wired*Nun]

Rurik and the others quickly find the name of the Deputy Chief Medical Examiner, one Stephanie Boudry, M.D. There is a note after her name, Trem. Gh.

In the Law Enforcement list, Capt. Anthony McGreggor, Major Case Unit, looks like the best choice. After his name is the notation - Tore Afficianado & Associate, aware of ex. of Kin but little more.

There are phone numbers listed for each.

[Darqueone]

"Mmm..." A sound of consideration. "Tremere and Toreador." she notes. "Well."

"May I suggest a slightly more certain meeting point after these interviews? Perhaps we might decide on a ... crime scene... to visit first, and we will all meet there?"

After this decision, she'll go with Rurik to the ME's, after releasing her own retainers (with the usual instructions).

[ikay]

“Fine with me,” Christiaan answers, closing up the file he picked up without ever having really looked at it and replacing it carefully, so he doesn’t upset the stack. He looks at the names on the list. “I suggest we make out phone-calls to these people in here. If either of them is unavailable, we can make another plan without much time lost.”
He glances briefly at Patrick before turning to Rurik and Tatyana with a neutral face. “Do you carry cell-phones? If so, let’s exchange numbers so we can contact one another in case anything turns up.

“The gentleman Mr. James and I are about to visit is aware of the existence of kindred, it seems. Should we let him know we are conducting an investigation from this side?”


"May I suggest a slightly more certain meeting point after these interviews? Perhaps we might decide on a ... crime scene... to visit first, and we will all meet there?"

Christiaan nods. “Let’s do that, especially if we want to look at the scenes together. In case we have to wait, I suggest the ones near the bar, er, the Silver Shamrock, right?”

[Darqueone]

(Assuming no one wants to comment between these; if so, feel free and I'll happily edit!)

Tatyana's expression carries just a hint of distaste. "Yes. Cell phone." a slightly resigned nod "I suppose so." She reaches into her clutch purse and removes a card-case; from there, she offers each gentleman an elegant calling card.

"I would recommend keeping these matters as far from even our apparently trusted allies as possible. They are mortal; they could be ... influenced."

(Note: Calling card as in "I came calling" vs. "$0.05/minute overseas rates")

[Wired*Nun]

[Honto ni, meishi desu.]

[Darqueone]

[Hai, meishi desu. Domo, Sensei-san]

[Wired*Nun]

[Do itashimashite.]

[Benicus]

Patrick looks up again after hearing his name, "I don't think that would be wise. All he is aware of is Kindred it seems, not much else. Why not just keep him in the dark?"

He exchanges a card with the name of an investment firm he had founded for fun in his spare time on it. It has his cell number on it.

"Why not just hit the bar up and wait there?"

[my semester of Japanese is tingling...]

[Vortigern]

At the suggestion to meet up at the pub Rurik simply nods his assent.

When business cards are passed out, he does likewise, producing a similar case and set of cards... though his are perhaps slightly less elegant and more utilitarian. They also likely have far less information and simply provide basic contact information.

When Patrick suggests ignoring the police and proceeding directly to the scenes Rurik quirks a brow, shaking his head and a wryness enters his expression. "If the police-man ( an emphasis is applied to each part of this compound word ) is too much for you to handle effectively, I can do so. We switch assignments then. You and Dama Tatyana can go and examine the remains and effects and Mr. Van Dur Luyden and myself can interface with the Captain. Dama, while it is all too true they may be influenced, and I do not think we should rely on them over much, I feel we should begin at least with a firm basis of what they have collected from the scenes and their basic investigations. Then perhaps we can rely more upon our own merits." Then he eyes Patrick, a wrinkling of his nose and twinkle to his eye. "Such as they are."

[Darqueone]

"My pardon, Master Rurik. I think Mr. James meant that we should not reveal more than strictly needed. As did I. Certainly, we should use our powers to examine both the mortal authorities and the scenes, in person. And I agree with you, the best way seems to be to go in pairs to do so; it is efficient.

"I am satisfied with either yourself, or Mr. James, as my partner for the evening." She smiles warmly. "I'm sure with such escorts, the mission will be most successful."

[Benicus]

You do understand English, right? The words flare up in Patrick's mind, waiting on the tip of his tongue for him to speak them. He restrains himself though and with a smile he speaks, "Dama was correct, letting the mortals know more would be costly to the Masquerade. I was suggesting that we meet in the club instead of at a crime scene nearby to trade information and drink. Perhaps you need me to speak more slowly?"

[Darqueone]

Tatyana sighs slightly.

[Vortigern]

[ OOC: Mmm. I see where the misunderstanding was on my part. It was an OOC misperception. Le Sigh. Anyway. I'll just let it roll for now I suppose. My apologies. ]

Rurik pauses, eyeing both Tatyana and Patrick for a long moment before nodding once again. "Then I misunderstood. You have my apologies on that account then Mr. James. We shall proceed with the original plan then. I would say reveal only what is necessary. However revealing our role as investigators 'may' engender some camraderie if you will with this one in particular. A greater desire to assist us. If he is uncooperative at first, it may be the best way to proceed. If necessary I am certain we can have those inconvenient revelations he experiences removed later. Is all settled?" As he speaks he gathers the files and book and places them into his own case, closing it. "If so, I believe we should proceed then."

[Darqueone]

Tatyana rises, ready to leave with Rurik.

[Vortigern]

If there is no further input at this point Rurik will proceed to contact the ghoul ME and go to investigate the remains and effects, post haste.

[Darqueone]

(OOC Ditto)

[ikay]

[OOC; I’m ready]

Christiaan looks from one to the other, briefly pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, as a new crisis seems to arise and is averted immediately. “Very well, let’s continue then.”

He accepts all business- and calling cards and hands out his own in return. He instinctively rises as Tatyana does, so she isn’t the only one standing.

[OOC, if Patrick wants to do the calling I’m fine with that and I can re-write the next part]

Picking up his own phone, an elegant little contraption, he looks at Patrick; “Unless you’d like to do the honours?”

Swiftly pressing in the little numbers on his smart-phone, Christiaan proceeds with calling Capt. Anthony McGreggor.

Assuming there is an answer, Christiaan will proceed carefully, in case the policeman’s phone is monitored; “Hello, is this Mr. McGreggor? I would like to speak with you about the case Ms. Dobson told me you are working on. When can we meet?”