{V:tM - IC} New York by Night

[Catulle]

Frederick Douglas Memorial Cemetery, Staten Island
Wednesday 11th December, 2002

The gun's prompt disappearance into Gabriel's coat left the officer bereft of any kind of confidence, taking large, panicked gulps of air He would have dropped straight to his knees had David not supported his weight, the broad-shouldered Malkavian taking the brunt with a single arm keeping his right free with the knife. As Max got closer, David cast him a level, eye-to-eye glance, before ceding the cop's care to the younger Kindred. "What are you?" He whispered as Max kept him secure, his undead strength easily subduing the mortal's desperate reflex struggle. The fight seemed to leave the captive entirely once Max returned to his field of vision. David nodded once and stepped back into the shadows, walking in the direction of the main entrance.

As Nikolai's challenge echoed out across the still night air, a single small figure darted from its place of concealment some twenty meters away from the site itself. In a rustle of withered leaves and the scrabble of dirt and twigs the childlike form took off at a run straight away from the group of Kindred. In the wan moonlight, it seemed a feral thing barely recognisable as human and streaked with filth.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Frederick Douglas Memorial Cemetery, Staten Island
Wednesday 11th December, 2002

originally posted by Catulle
"What are you?"

"None of your concern, but if you want you could think of us as private investigators of sorts," Max says, and chuckles a little.

He sighs and looks at the mess before them.

"Not exactly your average open-shut case eh? People'll be wanting answers for something of this scale," he says casually to the cop, "Good luck to ya."

Max looks about, watching his comrades go about their business when he sees the response to Nikolai's challenge.

"Uh-oh," he says, speaking sternly to the police officer now, "Stay back, we'll deal with this."

Max releases the officer from his grasp and steps in front of him to face the small figure, knife on hand.

Better not underestimate this thing if it did all this.

His mind strays back to the pile of stones and he shudders.

Wait, Nikolai already knows this thing! How? When? Its obvious he hates it, maybe a vendetta... Is this that murderer Nosferatu?

"Uh-oh," he repeats, and clenches his fist around the knife, trying to psych himself up for the coming fight.

[ooc: Max will use Celerity if a fight ensues and try to take out his opponent with the knife, if he gets hurt pretty bad though he'll fall back and pull the shotgun. He will only use it if given the all clear by David. Also he'll try to protect the mortal if he ever comes under threat of attack.]

 

[reapersaurus]

Nikolai, finger on the trigger for any response, sees the movement, and immediately breaks into a cold dead run.

He believes this creature MAY have something... ANYthing to do with the Red Poet, or what has happened tonight in the graveyard, so he does everything he can to catch the thing.

Focusing the power of his enhanced blood.. the blood of a centuries-old vampire... he raises his Dexterity to 7 and takes furious chase, a quiet assassin on the fly, his senses working overtime to keep tabs on the creature that was silly enough to hide in noisy dry leaves when watching them.

He is not opposed to shooting the creature to wound it if its capture is in doubt.

OOC: If it would help, or is needed in this pursuit, Nikolai would spend a Willpower point to catch the creature. He's a Fanatic in the pursuit of The Red Poet, and will expend every resource he has to follow any real leads in regards to it.

 

[Ashrem Bayle]

As the other Kindred took off in pursuit of the small creature, Gabriel looked at the policeman. "Don't move", he commanded, his voice reaching out to dominate the mortal's free will.

 

[Catulle]

Frederick Douglas Memorial Cemetery, Staten Island
Wednesday 11th December, 2002

(OOC - Max burns 1 blood for Celerity, Nikolai burns 3 blood to increase Dexterity; Initiatives - Nikolai 11, The Feral 10, Gabriel 9, Max 8, Brandt 8)

Nikolai's motion began before the creature could gain ground, and although it surged away from the bush, he was tight to its heels. The advantage of surprise lasted hardly any time at all, and as the Tremere gained on it, the blur of motion that was Maxwell cut sharply in from the blind side.

They came at it at the same time, the quick blade of the young Brujah competing with and yet complementing Nikolai's sure aim to bring it down...

(OOC - Max dex/melee diff7 - 7,7,5 = 2 successes; damage 8,6,5,3,3 vs soak 8,1 = 3 damage)

A savage impact and the tear of flesh accompanied a surprisingly human shriek of pain as the creature tumbled to the earth, landing on its back with the Tremere's gun pointed directly at its forehead.

It was a child.

Clad in rags and viscera, Nikolai could see through his preternatural vision the cords of flesh caught in its teeth, the apron of dried out blood that adorned the feral little beast's chest. He could smell the decay that clung to still-living flesh. Madness raged in its eyes, yet it remained supine - defeated, at least, for the moment.

(OOC - Gabriel mesmerism - 6,2,1 = 0 successes; Brandt courage 7,5,2,1 = 0 successes

Amid the offal field, Gabriel's next order seemed to hold, despite the cop's reluctance to meet his gaze. The officer coiled up to press his face against the cold, damp earth and his body shook with the sobbing.

 

[Catulle]

Crown Plaza Hotel, Montague Family Suite – The Music Room
Wednesday 11th December, 2002

"I'm glad to hear that... Cate." Carrick kept his attention focused on the neon vista that shone through the window; though he clearly heard the singer, he remained rapt on the landscape.

"When I say I don't appreciate art, I mean that my experience is overly limited through academia. I have, I find, little talent for creation though some limited capacity for critique. The hallmark of a classical education, perhaps? Vychtorya, for instance, is far more refined than I in her tastes." A wan smile touched his features.

"I think," he conceded, "that you show an uncommon degree of promise; promise which I would loathe to see left to life's vicissitudes."

 

[Catulle]

Crown Plaza Hotel, Montague Family Suite – The Study
Wednesday 11th December, 2002

(OOC - Sabrina per/empathy - 9,8,8,5,3 - 3 successes)

The eldest Montague's bearing reflected genuine pride to his neice as he returned to the drinks cabinet and withdrew the decanter, now refilled, to the potent scent of old leather and older blood. Instead of pouring for the young girl, Nathaniel placed the vessel on the table, and a glass to its side.

"Take what you will, Sabrina. I do believe you have earned it tonight." He sank into the less-comfortable seat opposite her, watching keenly with his dark eyes and shroud of darker hair. At the next barrage of questions, he bowe his head and waited for the child to commence drinking before starting his explaination;

"Yet to be Prince is to walk the razor's edge. Calebros was wise, yet conceded defeat - and Calebros is older than all who reside in the city at present. Why, even Elizabeth covets the ivory throne and it is even more important that she not gain such a prize than for another Ventrue Prince to reign over New York. Can you imagine what she might mandate for our family?" Nathan's voice grew cold. "It must not be allowed to pass. I would rather the Montagues ascend to a position of strength under whosoever attains that honour. Better that we achieve indispensibility, surely, than compete only to fail at the last hurdle due to the ambitions of our Brujah enemies. The wise man fights only the battles which he can win, after all."

 

[Tory Adore]

Antiquities Nightclub, Manhatten
Wednesday 11th December, 2002

"You'll have heard we Ventrue are difficult to please, so far as tastes go... Why not surprise me; see if you've my measure by now." ...he turned his head to examine the room again. The scent of his aftershave lingered faintly and not unpleasently, overlaying as it did the blood aroma her mind was already supplying in anticipation. "Do you know her well? Your grandsire, I mean."

Biting her lower lip, Vych raises her brows that frame her smiling eyes as she smoothes her hands from her chin down her neck resuming a standing pose. Her left hand continues to the goblet, but her right stops at the side of her neck, moving the angora sweater aside; a finger gently tapping as if in thought on a seemingly pulsing vein,
“Mmm… I could make some conjectures as to your... um ‘measure’.”
[OOC - per/subterfuge to see if he was alluding to feeding from her]

Vych watches Jemal turn away to examine the room again. Images of the earlier evening’s events flashed in her mind. Vych closes her eyes briefly taking in his scent and placing it in her mind next to the mental picture she had painted of him while he was driving her car. She hears Jemal’s question, which awakens her back to the moment. She flutters her lids open to look in his direction. She shakes her head a bit and leans down taking a black bottle etched with a swan on its surface from a special holding area below the bar. It is a personal favorite of hers as far as bottled vitae goes.

Uncorking and pouring a small amount of the thick, succulent, burgundy nectar from the black bottle, Vych says as the image of the woman from downstairs enters her thoughts again at Jemal’s words,
”Well, actually…I…I’ve never met her before….but”

Vych sets the bottle down on the counter. She walks around the bar to where Jemal is standing as she holds the goblet to her chest with both hands, eyes somewhat lightly fixated on the sculpture of Carrick’s sire with the left side of her body coming to rest against Jemal’s. Talking in a softened voice (to a sensitive ear, one might even pick out a slight tremble),
”Jemal, can I tell you something in confidence?”

 

[Shalimar]

Crown Plaza Hotel, Montague Family Suite – The Study
Wednesday 11th December, 2002

Sabrina's smile would have grown larger if she hadn't already been giving her largest. This was the first time she was ever allowed as much as she wanted, but she had to be very careful, if she took to much he might not let her get her own again. Carefully she took the decanter in two hands, slowly she filled the glass, concentrating very hard on not spillling the prescious fluid.

Slowly Sabrina replaced the decanter on the desk, for a moment it appears she has poured too much into the glass, and indeed she had, but her tongue flicked out cat-like lapping up the blood till it was safe to lift the glass. She was like a giant cat lapping up cream, savouring every last taste. It takes the entirety of his answer for her to drink her fill, and when she is finished she curls up in his lap.

"You said we were going out tonight, with miss Cate and mister Carrick, so where are we going, and when are we leaving?" she asked almost bouncing on his lap.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Frederick Douglas Memorial Cemetery, Staten Island
Wednesday 11th December, 2002

Max pins the little horror, keeping the knife to its throat to make decapitation easier if needed.

"God, not another kid. This is what, the second one I've seen this month? You'd think they were becoming fashionable," he says bitterly to Nikolai.

Ok, so it isn't the Heartbreaker or whatever its name is. I'm sure one of its spawn is good enough for the time being, just gotta wait for David's call.

Max looks to David.

"What's your call boss?" he asks.

Nikolai seems pretty damn... fanatical... maybe if we're to kill it I should give him the honours. Should sate his thirst for... whatever... for the moment.