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Unread 19th of February, 2011, 17:08
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Prelude: My, What a Difference a Century Can Make

((OOC: Copper, figured this would be a perfect place to do that pre-chronicle scene we discussed. Feel free to jump in.))

New York City is home to plenty of strange sights, but even for the Big Apple this might be a first. An old, practically ancient looking, woman wearing a stained and tattered gown that had to be at least as old she was was drifting through the streets of one of the city's worst neighborhoods. And her gown was perhaps the cleanest part of her appearance. Her thin, white hair was wild and unkept, sprouting in all directions. Her face was pale and gaunt, smudged with dirt and grime. Walking at her side was a rather large dog, a rottweiler mix of some sort. The dog had no leash but kept in perfect stride with its master.

Every so often she would stop and stare at something with a gaze of wonder. A street light. A passing car. An airplane flying overhead. It seemed almost anything could catch her attention for a brief moment or two before she'd shake it off and continue ambling through the streets.
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Unread 21st of February, 2011, 23:10
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It was habit more than need that brought the Nosferatu to the surface that night. The cold, bitter heart of the clan's undercity was familiar and inviting to her, and the politically bickering of her broodsmates no longer made her as uncomfortable as it once did; she had fed recently, on rats and a fitfully sleeping begger on the subway platform, and her Beast was no longer snarling and baying. No, she came to the surface tonight because her feet had carried her here, carried her out to the warmth of the moon's embrace, and the sounds of a city that was still bustling with life.

The manhole cover was laid to rest with expert hands, birthing not a sound, and Vole allowed herself a long, slow pause in which to survey her surroundings. She knew this alleyway well -- it was the location of one of the Necropolis' many trapdoors, idealy positioned to allow access to the herd of stray cats and dogs that congregated outside the local butchers, trying to steal pieces of food that had survived the mouths of customers and found their way into the bins outside -- and as such did not expect to be seen or witnessed in her trespass.

And so it was that when the sounds of the wandering elder reached her ears, the Haunt gave pause, her hairless brow furrowing as she half-turned towards the mouth of the stone corridor, her hands still placed upon the rim of the manhole. She became perfectly still as the shadows of the mainstreet loomed larger at the alleyway's lip, and watched with practised silence as the figure -- that of a woman, and perhaps a dog? -- staggered into, and out-of, sight.

Vole's Beast was awoken again in an instant, thrashing and clawing at her throat. The Nosferatu backpeddled, caught off-guard, and clasped her hands about her thin, leathery throat, her sharp nails puncturing deep, sudden holes into her flesh. The pain was minor, but sudden, and it stole her from her daze. The Beast was beaten back down into the depths of her stomach, where it lay dormant. For now.

The Haunt became quickly aware that she was breathing, her body trying to replicate a function that had once come naturally to her, and she stopped herself with an irritated growl. Dusting herself off, Vole started cautiously towards the alleyway's entrance, drawing the hood of her jacket up and over her hideous face as she went, and then peered around it's edge, her white eyes locking immediately upon the back of the wandering vampire.

A newcomer. Shit. The Nosferatu had met -- or, rather, surveyed -- a great many of the city's undead residents, and she could not recall ever glimpsing this... unique woman before. Not that she could've forgotten: the Beast's reaction betrayed their first contact. It never lied.

What should she do? Contact the Hounds, or the Sheriff? Not terribly wise, especially if the woman had already presented herself to the Prince. Follow her? Vole might learn something useful from her observations of this unknown factor, but then again she might not.

In the end it was the woman's wide-eyed fascination with the smallest details of the world around her that settled Vole's as-yet conflicted mind. Such admiration and wonder hinted at unfamiliarity, and unfamiliarity with the modern age suggested a more sinister secret: that the woman belonged in another time. An elder, perhaps? That would provoke dramatic changes in the city, if it were known, as the presence of an elder would inflame the covenants into a bidding war for her favour, thus strengthening their perceived power amongst the Kindred. It would also mean that the archaic Kindred would undoubtedly be entitled to greater feeding rights and territory by the Invictus, who swooned for such links to their past. Neither eventuality would be beneficial, to the Nosferatu or to the Carthians.

And so, with a regretful sigh as soft and soundless as her step, the Haunt slipped around the corner, cleaving to the shadows as she started after her unexpected quarry.
OOC: I didn't know your Blood Potency rating, so I was deliberately vague about her reaction to you.

What follows is my Dexterity + Stealth roll, just incase you wanted it to be made: 30
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Unread 22nd of February, 2011, 02:18
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OOC: Blood Potency is 1.

Wits + Composure roll for Perception to detect someone following 25

Arwen continued shuffling the streets. Her first two nights had been spent feeding on whatever vermin and stray animals she could lure into her clutches and watching this new world from her haven with a mixture of slack jawed amazement and absolute terror. Such marvels. The city bathed in an endless flow of electric light. The horseless carriages that she remembered as a toy for the rich were now everywhere. People talking to unseen voices using tiny little devices. It was all so new. So strange.

But other things she saw reminded her that people were the same. Whores on street corners. Things were not so brazen in her day, but cheap women practicing the world's oldest profession was still was a familar sight. Men secretly dealing powders and strange medicines. She wondered idly if it was opium or if some new, even more powerful drug had swept across the globe. The ever simmering threat of violence on the streets. Before it was the Jews and Irish, now it appears it is the Negros and Mexicans.

Yes, technology had changed, but man had not. He was still rotten and vice ridden. His will readily corrupted and his passions easily manipulated. Arwen smiled and reached down to scratch the behind her canine companion's ears. "We'll be fine, Edwin, my dear. Just fine. Now if we could only remember where the blasted Elysium is at." Edwin looked up at the sound of his master's voice and wagged his tail as he was scratched and patted.

Arwen looked around again. Nothing here brought back memories. She was awake in New York so briefly and so long ago that nothing seemed familiar. Still, something was going to happen tonight. The goddess had told her. Something would put her on her path. Maybe she would just stumble right into the Elysium. That's why she chose one of her finest gowns. One only has one chance to make a first impression. She smiled wryly, revealing yellowed teeth. And what an impression she would make. Few, if any, Kindred in New York had seen someone quite like Arwen Dymock.
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Unread 3rd of March, 2011, 08:57
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Her approach was quiet -- not entirely silent, but masked well enough beneath the gutteral growling of the city's nightlife. She kept to the shadows as she progressed further down the street, and paused every now and again whenever her quarry stopped to survey some new wonder.

Vole allowed herself a long moment to appraise the other Kindred. She was as unique in appearance as she was in the wonder, excitement, and fear she inspired in the young Haunt. And her movements, the tone and texture of her voice, all served to suggest that she was foreign, at least where the modern nights were concerned. Alien. And something alien in a society that was raised on unchanging values was never altogether welcome, at least not in a city run by the First Estate.

But the Carthians, Vole mused, they might welcome her arrival. Would they? Probably not, but a visionary had to find ground with some new hope or dream. And if the woman was an elder, then such association with the Movement could only bring benefits to Vole's people. It most certainly couldn't do the covenant any lasting harm.

She swallowed -- another human response, but one she ignored for the moment -- and dusted herself off. The results were unsatisfactory: the majority of her jacket's grime and dirt could not be shifted, at least not by something so cursory as a simple patting down. Once done, she pressed herself more firmly into the shadows of the nearest alleyway and -- after double-checking that she had a viable escape route if things went poorly -- she cleared her throat and spoke aloud.

"Maybe I could offer some assistance."

Last edited by Copper; 3rd of March, 2011 at 09:00.
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Unread 4th of March, 2011, 08:48
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((OOC: I’m assuming your Obsfcuate 2 is up. So we will need to do Clash of Wills. I rolled mine in the dice roll thread and got 3 successes. Also I got a success on my Dream Visions roll, so I'll PM you the question.))

Vole’s approach startled the old hag who had been staring in wonder at stoplight. She whirled around with surprised speed and hissed, “Twll dy din, sguthan!” The dog at her side began to growl menacingly as it inserted itself between the newcomer and its master.

The beast only stopped growling when Awren’s bony fingers reached down and began to scratch the mutt behind the ears. For a moment the old hag just stood there, staring at strange newcomer who approached her. “There there, Edwin. I don’t think this one means us any harm.” She looked up from the guard dog and shifted her gaze towards Vole. At first she just peered into the shadows with a blank stare, but then a slight smile crept onto her lips. ((Activate Auspex 1: Sight to see through the shadows))

“Though ye did have me shittin’ planks. Comin’ at an old lady like that, out of nowhere, out of the dark. In my day, people didn’t go around skulkin’ and creepin’ up on each other.” She shook her head in disapproval.

“But ye said something about assistance, didn't ye? Just what sort of assistance do ye think I’m needin’, dearie?”
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Unread 4th of March, 2011, 12:49
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OOC: In all honesty I hadn't given Mask of Tranquility much thought, but I suppose, given the circumstances, she'd have had it active, yes.

I scored 3 successes in the opposed Clash of Wills which, I believe, makes me the victor, being the defender.
The woman's hiss, coupled with the terrible snarl of the dog, caused Vole to take a significant backwards step further into the darkness. She was ready to flee at a moment's noticed, but curiosity -- and a desire to not be bull-rushed from behind by the snarling hound -- kept her rooted to the spot. When the woman's surprise and anger passed the neonate adjusted her footing, taking a small step forwards as she bowed her head respectfully.

"My apologises," she said softly, her voice as rough and pleasing as sand-paper, "but I did not wish to cause unnecessary tension, with yourself or with... others." The Nosferatu peered out of the shadows of the alleyway towards the sidewalk opposite, where various couples and individuals meandered back and forth, lost in conversation or deep in thought.

Turning back to the other Kindred, the Carthian progressed: "I heard that you were looking for the elysium. I can take you there, if you'd consent: the Prince will be most keen to make your acquintance." And so will some others, I'm sure, she thought.

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Unread 4th of March, 2011, 16:40
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"I thought ye may be Kindred. Ysbryd, right? Ye, have the look of one not to mention ye can mask the Beast. Aye. Ye are a Ysbryd. I'd stake an oath on it." She nodded with an air of confidence, as if her declaration made it fact.

"So ye are the one who will take me to Elysium." Arwen looked over Vole. Her unblinking blue eyes easily piercing the shadows the neonate clung to. "I knew tonight was the night to be out and about. I told ole Edwin here tonight was the night. Didn't think it'd be ye though. I reckon it shows the gods will always keep a few twists and turns to themselves, eh?" She smiled, flashing yellowed teeth.

"Listen to me prattlin' on without a formal introduction." She shook her head in mock disapproval of her own manners. "Name is Arwen Dymock and I would be most pleased if ye would take me to the Elysium. I'm sure Prince Aldamund will remember me. Gods know I remember him."
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Unread 7th of March, 2011, 21:32
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The woman's words caused Vole to give pause. She cleared her throat -- a rough, uncomfortable instrument -- and then began to speak slowly, cautiously. "I'm afraid things are no longer as you remember them. This Aldamund no longer reigns; New York City is now the province of Mercia Kinsey."

Waiting a moment, allowing for these words to sink in, Vole risked a few steps towards the newcomer, her gaze flicking back and forth between the vampire and her large hound. Slowly she shadows began to lose their hold on her, and the weathered tatters of her attire became visible, followed by the odd patch of leathery flesh upon her hands and wrists. Her face, covered modestly by the hood of her jacket, remained in the darkness, however: a small mercy for the dog, if not for the visually-enhanced elder.

"I'm sure you're keen to meet with the new monarch," Vole said finally, her expression impassive, "and to that end I'll be happy to show you the way."
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Unread 8th of March, 2011, 03:17
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"Mercia ... Kinsey." The elder cocked her head, trying to recall that name in vain. Had she never met this Kinsey? Or was the name just lost in the fog of torpor? Furthermore, this neonate seemed to not even know the name Aldamund. Exactly how many years had passed while Arwen slept? Would there be anyone left who could remember her?

Arwen snapped her head back towards Vole. "Yes! Yes! Take me to this Prince Kinsey. Let's get this over with. Though perhaps as we go, ye could tell me a bit about this new prince and the court?"
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Unread 8th of March, 2011, 13:34
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The two made an odd pair as they moved down the streets of Harlem, and as they went, both could feel the eyes of mortal hoodlums following them. Roving gangs of fours and eights were sitting on run down residential steps, sporting loose, baggy clothing and wearing their pants so low that Arwen might have laughed if the intent in their eyes and auras was not so clear. This seemed to be a black neighborhood, and Arwen was an old white woman. Perhaps only the fact that she looked crazy held off some from approaching her, but Vole knew that trouble would come if they didn't move a bit more in incognito. Perhaps moving via the sewers and then linking up with the subway routes would be best... lest they stir up trouble with a gang of street toughs, carrying guns and knives and little enough conscience...

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Unread 9th of March, 2011, 06:15
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The Nosferatu was a quick, quiet guide, moving with the grace and speed of one who had walked the shadowy paths of the Big Apple many times, both before and after her Embrace. Dark eyes glared out from beneath the canopy of her hood, taking in the various inhabitants of the darkened streets as they sat by, peering at the two wanderers with black interest.

For a time, Vole had kept her cautious air in check, choosing instead to humour the elder with a summary of the Prince and her court. The offered details were, of course, worded carefully, ensuring that neither the Haunt's clan or covenant came into bad light, or that she voiced any disparaging remarks towards the Invictus that might later be passed along to eager ears. It was a description of half-truths and stereotypes, designed as much to gauge the elder and her stance as it was to inform. But then, quite suddenly, the Nosferatu stalled, and cast a weary glance about.

"If I might make a suggestion?" Vole said softly. "I'd advise a more prudent avenue of travel from this point on." She gestured with a slender, needle-fingered hand towards a couple of distasteful humans up ahead, and then added, "These streets have a stigma well earned, and I'd rather not delay our appointment with the powers that be."
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Unread 9th of March, 2011, 09:06
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Arwen listened carefully as Vole described the current court. After the first mention of the Carthians, the elder expressed mild surprise that they were still in existance and then referred them off handedly as "ragged agitators", but there was no detectable malice or ill will in her tone. Other than that, Arwen stayed mostly quiet, content to let her guide do most of the talking.

When Vole came to a stop and expressed her concerns, the elder listened and then watched the two young hoodlums the Nosferatu pointed out with a look that was anything but fearful. After a moment or two, Arwen shifted her unblinking gaze back to Vole. "Ye be the tour guide here, sweetie. If ye know a better way to get to our destiny, then get on with it. No sense wastin' time here."
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Unread 9th of March, 2011, 09:52
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Edwin began to growl and bare his teeth towards the two men who were eying them, and quickly they were joined by more kine, into a gang of six. "Yo, you best be shutting that dog up..." was softly uttered amongst the crowd.

Vole would have known that they could continue a few blocks down this troubled street and get to a subway station, or they could trail off this street now and head down a manhole - but the dog would be a problem in the sewers, assuming that this Dymock woman would be all right with getting her dress dirty in the first place. Nosferatu rarely worried about the smudges and smells that they picked up going through the sewers, but it bothered just about every other clan.

Arwen for her part, noticed a gathering of dark wings above on the telephone poles. Crows were gathering and watching them. Never a good omen.
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Unread 9th of March, 2011, 13:46
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"Hush, Edwin." Arwen scolded the dog absently. Her attention was absorbed by the crows gathering overhead. Slowly, a look of concern and then dread came over the elder's face. She finally tore her attention away from the ominous black birds and faced Vole.

"If ye have another to go, waste no more time. Malevolence is gathering here. The gods are warning us and we must heed their signs. We must go."
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Unread 9th of March, 2011, 23:51
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The Nosferatu nodded, and immediately tore down the side-alley towards a nearby manhole, which she deftly heaved out of place with little apparent effort. She looked up at the elder and her hell-hound once finished, and gestured towards the entrance with a small degree of enthusiasm -- or was it impatience? It was hard to tell without seeing her facial expression, and that was hidden expertly beneath that cowl of hers.

That most of the Kindred frowned upon the safe passages of the sewer tunnels did not matter to Vole, not at that moment: the elder had told her to hurry, and whilst a directive from an elder was usually excuse enough to hustle she was also being fueled by a keen desire to avoid conflict with the kine -- she didn't believe in superstition or omens, but she did believe in the Masquerade, and the painful penetration of bullets and knives.

"This way," she urged.
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Unread 10th of March, 2011, 10:36
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Arwen raced after Vole down the darkened alley with Edwin at her side. As Vole urged her down the manhole, Arwin quickly oblidged and began to descend, but after taking a few steps down the ladder, she paused. The elder turned her attention to Edwin and began to bark and growl as if she could actually speak to the dog in his native tongue. "This woman will carry ye down. Be a good boy!"

Arwen then looked up to Vole. "Don't worry about Edwin. He'll be a good boy as ye carry him down." Without waiting for a response, she put her head down and continued her descent into the sewers.

((OOC: Four successes on Feral Whispers to Edwin, which is what the italics text represents.))
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Unread 10th of March, 2011, 13:11
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Edwin's tail sagged between his hind legs as he stood at the precipice of the hole with the strange Nosferatu hovering nearby. He did as Arwen commanded though and held still to be carried down into the relative safety of the sewers.

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Unread 14th of March, 2011, 23:36
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Vole listened to the series of animal-like noises that escaped the elder's throat with a look of mild surprise and faint bemusement -- maybe the woman was crazy, driven beyond the realms of sanity by the misty recesses of torpor -- but quickly jerked out of her reverie when the older woman descended out of view, leaving her behind with the considerable hound.

Approaching slowly, the Haunt wrapped her thin, leathery arms about the hell-hound and, whilst fighting the urge to move her throat further and further out of reach, she squatted down over the manhole and lowered herself down onto the first few rungs of the ladder. It was awkward, descending with such thing in your arms, but the Nosferatu's strength was considerable, and she managed with only the slightest difficulty.

At the base of the rusted steps, Vole lowered the hell-hound to the floor and then scurried back skywards, latching her claws about the edges of the manhole and pulling it with a short, sudden screech back into place. Satisfied by her work, she returned to the elder's position and then gestured towards the darkened tunnels ahead. "This way."
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Unread 15th of March, 2011, 05:50
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Arwen immediately went over to her hell-hound and gave the beast a brief inspection. If the ancient hag was bothered by the muck and filth of their new surroundings, it didn't show. In fact, she looked strangely at ease in this dark, disgusting place. Once she was satisfied Edwin was without injury, she looked up at her guide. "Lead on."
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Unread 15th of March, 2011, 19:41
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Edwin seemed to be fine, though his ears were pricked upwards and his head swiveled from side to side, as though there were some hidden threat just beyond the extent of his senses to detect.

Vole led them on through the wretched, humid tunnels, full of the stench of the city. The ways here were known to her, but it would be a long hike down the isle unless they caught a train... The Prince was located in mid-Manhattan, at the Stannard Building, and as such they would need to skirt the east side of Central Park and follow the green line tunnels south. The dog was going to present a problem getting around the city, she could already tell, since the kine didn't appreciate animals on trains.

Vole stowed away her thoughts and marched on, taking a sewer route that went parallel to the subway for a time, before dropping them down a few levels and leading the way through a broken iron grate that allowed them access to the metro tunnels proper.

They walked for over an hour, avoiding trains, passing by crazy bums and the more tragic kine that dwelt within the upper subway tunnels. Of rats, there were plenty, and they squeaked and kept to the shadows as the two predators and their hound walked by them.

After a while, Vole noticed something odd - the trains had stopped running. There must have been some sort of problem or delay on the tracks ahead. By the time they were nearing the 68th street station, a bright light in the tunnels could be seen, illuminating the tracks as if there was some sort of archeological dig going on. Suddenly a voice rasped out from the shadows.

"Hello Vole. Who's your friend?"

Appearing from the shadows, wearing a dirtied, torn black suit and tie with a white shirt, and holding a thick, spiked truncheon stained with old blood, was Khole, one of the residents of the nearby Necropolis, of which Vole was also apart of. Khole was a Sanctified and one of their paladins - a code word for Lancea Sanctum's enforcers. That truncheon of his wasn't just for show. When recruiting converts amongst the neonates, it was joked that the Second Estate under the Archbishop Domingo liked to use a "carrot and stick" approach. The "carrot" was a red headed Daeva named Maeya who was known for her powers of persuasion. Khole was the "stick." It didn't take many guesses to figure out what he was known for.

Khole eyed Arwen curiously - and for a moment hungrily - but the urge seemed to pass him at about the same moment that the desire to flee passed Arwen by, for she sensed that his blood potency was greater than hers.
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Unread 17th of March, 2011, 11:33
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The lengthy wander through the filth of New York's underbelly might've been unsettlingly dull and disgusting for the more vanity-conscious Kindred, but Vole's mind was free from such meager concerns. The passageways through which she led the elder were as familiar to her as a childhood home, and she traversed them with a subtle air of reverence and respectful consideration that might well have confused all but her fellow Haunts.

Every now and then the young Nosferatu would pause, absently caressing some haggard stone or wall space as she listened curiously to the dirtied silence of the walkways ahead. Her cautious approach might have been a factor in their slow progression, but that made no difference to Vole -- she'd rather be late than dead, and nothing short of a flare-gun to her ass would make her change such habits.

When Khole appeared, however, the Haunt was caught unawares, back-peddling into muck as she rounded about, searching for the source of the voice with her beady eyes. She exhaled loudly when she noticed the speaker, and ran a bony hand over her leathery scalp as she clambered away from the worst of the filth underfoot.

"She's a client, of sorts," Vole replied, her voice adopting it's usual air of respectful indifference -- the same tone she adopted for all of her sources of work, both past and present; Khole himself had hired her for a small job a few months before. "I'm taking her to see the Prince."
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Unread 17th of March, 2011, 13:37
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With slow but steady steps, Arwen followed Vole in silence. Even in the nearly pitch black tunnels, her footing was always sure. Edwin kept right at her side and the old hag would occassionally reach down and absently pat the beast's head. Mostly she studied her guide closely, watching her movements and mannerisms all while making careful note of their route. Clearly this was the Ysbryd's home or close to it.

Arwen ducked under a low hanging pipe just as Khole appeared out of the darkness. He was powerful. Frighteningly so. Her blood was so thin. So weak. This world was so confusing. For a moment it was all too much. Arwen was consumed by terror by the sight of this imposing Ysbryd and by this unfamilar world that surrounded her. Arwen shrunk and hunched, looking every bit the part of a helpless old woman as she shuffled back a half step before regaining her composure.

Slowly she raised a bony hand to her mouth and listened as Vole answered his question. Her hand concealed a wry smile as Vole described her as a client. Just how much did this neonate think her "services" were worth? It didn't matter. Arwen knew the true value of such things and the true value of her own abilities. She already knew how to repay her guide. In fact she looked forward to it, assuming Vole earned such generousity.
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Unread 18th of March, 2011, 09:48
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"Your client has chosen an odd time to be wandering these sewers with you," Khole said, rolling the words out of the side of his misshapen mouth. "If you want to see the Prince, you'll have to take a detour. There's been a masquerade breach up ahead, and the Sanctified are helping to clean up the mess the Circle's made. There'll be Hell to pay for it, mark my words. Say... I don't suppose you could account for your whereabouts this evening? And that of your client? She's got a bat shit crazy look about her. Like one of 'em old inbred Lords. It'd take something like that to pull off what went on ahead."

He squinted his beady, black eyes at Arwen, faint wisps of his remaining eyebrows set inwards and focusing disfavorably on what could be the source of his current problems, like a farmer regarding a rodent amongst his crops.
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Unread 18th of March, 2011, 12:55
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Arwen's face betrayed no reaction to the words "Sanctified" or "the Circle". Though she was not surprised to hear those zealots were still smearing the name of the true gods and their chosen followers. In fact, it was almost comforting to hear something familiar to her. Was this Ysbryd one of them? He had the air of a rigid unthinking brute, the exact sort the Lance liked to recruit as a boogeyman.

When Khole asked about their whereabouts, Arwen gave Vole a wide eyed glance. She was curious to see how Vole would answer. These Ysbryd's usually stuck together, regardless of other affiliations. Best to let her handle it for now.
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Unread 18th of March, 2011, 15:46
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Vole eyes widened at Khole's words, and her eagerness showed in her enthusiastic step forwards. "A Masquerade breach? So close to the Necropolis?" Despite the consequences of such a thing, the young Haunt's thirst for knowledge was peaked.

But not so much that she couldn't be stopped dead in her tracks by casual -- but deadly -- suspicions. "Where was I?" she repeated, more out of reflex than to buy time, but appearances could be deceiving; that being true, she hastened to add, "I was having a discussion. With Mad Alice." She paused, caught between fear and bemusement at the memory of the elder's random, frightening rant in the Necropolis' passageways. Vole still couldn't be sure what the Nosferatu had been talking about when she had snatched the neonate aside without warning -- she had glossed over a great many subjects, all in a very short space of time -- but understanding was rarely a gain in dealings with Mad Alice.

"And after that? I went up top," Vole added. "I'm sure you can find someone to ask them if they saw me come back this way between now and then." She jerked a scabby thumb in the direction of the passageway's many rats.
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