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Thursday, February 16th, 2006

Subject:Las Vegas Weekly RPG Group, this Friday
Posted by:arsadraoi.
Time:6:38 pm.
Las Vegas Weekly RPG Group, this Friday
Las Vegas Players!

Sorry to Inturupt, just one quick plug and I'm gone.

Looking for a good group to play in Las Vegas? We are looking to
organize a small group of Serious and Mature Role Players for a weekly game (either Fridays
or Saturdays, TBA).

Trial game (to see if everyone works well together) this Friday,
February 17th, from 4:00pm until ??, near the strip. Soda and munchies
will be present but feel free to add.

We are willing to run one of the following systems for this trial game:

Vampire the Masquerade

Vampire the Dark Ages

Mage the Ascension

Mage the Sorcerer's Crusade

or Demon the Fallen

(These are just for Friday’s game, this list can be added to for
continuing games, plans for Exalted and New World of Darkness are in the
making, plus other suggestions can be played)

Please contact us before 1:00pm, Friday, for directions. Be sure to
include contact information and if you have a preference or suggestion
for Friday's game. Please, only 17 years of age and over need apply.

dgcleveland@gmail.com
Comments: Add Your Own.

Friday, November 29th, 2002

Subject:One, Enter a man.
Posted by:tryingtosee.
Time:3:58 pm.
"They tell me you can see the future...That you can make things happen...Is this so?" The man sitting across from William leaned forward,smiling, brushing some immaginary lint from his tailored suit. There is something disconcerting about a man asking you if you can see the future.. Call it instinct, but it gave William the ebbie jebies. The man didn't say anything else, he just remained leaning forward, as though whatever came out of Wills mouth was vastly important. Will closed his eyes for a moment, picturing the man behind his eyes. Something about a desk, strain, and money. Will tried to immagine what the man would eat, what he would drink, and was somewhat suprised when what he saw was not food, but a young Indian woman, walking toward the man and leaning down to put her head on his shoulder. The man turned and smiled before opening his mouth slightly to kiss her neck.
Suddenly Will's eyes were open, his mind jarred back to reality with the sensation of a hand on his own. "Mr Townsend? Are you well?" WIll opened his eyes, nodding as the man withdrew his hand, then cleared his throat. "I don't know about telling the future, Mr. Green, but I do know about gathering more detail about the past. This is, after all, a detectives office..." Will sounded a little unhappy, there was something about the man across from him that made him uncomfotable. It wasn't the nice, albiet plastic smile, nor was it the somewhat preditory look in the other man's eyes. It was not something he could put his finger on right away. Mr. Green nodded, still leaning forward and bringing his hands up to cover his mouth. "Well, I have it on authority that you never fail in your tasks, and that often you prevent things from happening that, if you couldn't see the future, there is no way you could predict and deter." Will looked at him curiously. Was he serious? "Nothing like that. All of the cases I have been on have led to preventing one thing or the other, certainly, but I have never fortold the future.. I don't really think it is possible." This was frustrating, the suit was beating around the bush, pressing him about something he could not do. "I hate to press the point, Mr Green, but what brings you to my office? I am not a fortune teller, nor do I do terot readings."
Mr. Green leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, a smile spreading across his face. For a moment he just looked at William, looking at him as though he might do something interesting. "I do not mean to offend, Mr Townsend. I simply question because I would like to retain your services, and if you could tell the future, which you seem unable to do..." He said this last and then paused for a moment, as though willing William to contend it, before pressing on. "Nonetheless, you seem to have a pretty flawless reputation for always getting your man. such a record is almost unknown in the detectives in this area." Williams record was far from flawless, but if the man was trying to flatter him, he could put up with it. Mr. Green watched him for a moment, as though waiting for a response, before lifting a small black briefcase from the floor. "If you are interested, I would like to hire you to find my nephew. I am willing to quadruple your normal fee if you are willing to set aside any other cases you might be working on at present until he is found. It is very important to me to get him back. He is the only family I have."
Missing person, huh. You would think that he could afford someone better. Hell, there was a bigger, better, more successful shop right up the street. But if he was willing to pay quadruple, Will could put the one other case he had on the back burner...at least for a couple days. "What can you tell me about your nephew?"
"You'll take it then?" Green lifted a single brow, as though he had expected Will to turn him down.
"Yeah, so what can you tell me about him?"
Mr. Green smiled broadly, leaning forward in his chair as though he were going to jump out of it. "This is what I last heard...."

Green talked for almost three hours, telling Will the life story of his nephew Gregory. There was nothing unsettling about the story, but the more that William heard, the more he felt like he had made a rather large mistake.
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Monday, January 28th, 2002

Posted by:ravensmother.
Time:9:42 am.
"Wraiths are spirits that...well, no one knows why they stick around, because there are different rules in this world than in theirs, where even animals can have ghosts. Depends all on where you are," Angel said, checking the safety on her now full clipped guns. These were special bullets tipped with darksteel, one of the few things that could hurt ghosts for more than a few moments. She'd paid an arm and a leg for them down at a little shop in New Orleans, and truthfully had never seen them in action. First time for everything, though.

"We in one of those places?" Amergin asked, and Shade lifted her lip at his interruption, crossing her arms over her chest, leaning against the wall for a moment before drawing back like it was burning her. Of the three looking at Angel, Shade was the quietist.

"No, not really, though nodes are a little different. This one's a node of Entropy, which means it's geared towards the more...well, some people think that it's darker, more attuned to evil, but really, it's just death, the end of things. All in their minds, that association," Angel told her, wrinkling her brow. Amergin was sniffing the air, and it made her uneasy.

"This place stinks o'Wyrm. I dunne ken why I couldne smell it before. It's thick with the stuff," the werewolf growled out. Angel shrugged, not really sure what he was going on about. As long as he didn't go furry on her, she didn't care.

"The big thing is that in order for them to hurt us, they have to cross the Shroud-"

"Umbra," Amergin interjected.

"-which is a specialized skill. We have to have weapons that can hurt them, but I didn't bring anything other than these two clips. If there's more than one or two ghosties here, we're screwed. I'm not a spirit mage, most I can do past shoot them is maybe make them feel very sluggish. Entropy's not good against them."

"Can they be hurt by other means?" Shade asked, the shadows around her deepening again.

Angel shrugged. "Sometimes. Vampires seem to have better luck against them than humans, and werewolves claws can hurt a wraith more than fingernails. I don't know what you do, so I don't know how well it'd go."

"Wha aboot him?" the Garou tossed his thumb at Nathan, who was busily rubbing his cheek against the wall, feeling the slight difference in texture between the smooth glass and the sandblasted words carved into it. Angel smirked.

"Time magick is very potent. Nathan is a master of it. When he's not trying to experience the world, that is."

"Then he's with me," Shade said, wrapping her arms around one of Nathan's elbows. The Ecstatic simply started rubbing his cheek against her hair, instead. "We'll look for a way out, and meet back here every 15 minutes. Simplest thing in the world. Once we've found a way, we'll just tell the others at the next meeting."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea..." the wolf began, but Shade cut him off, already dragging Nathan away from the other two.

"It'll be fine! What could go wrong?"

The house groaned again, deep inside and below them, and a wall slammed down between the four, Amergin and Shade on one side, Shade and Nathan on the other, and suddenly the glass began to arrange itself again, pushing them farther apart.
Comments: Read 4 orAdd Your Own.

Monday, November 12th, 2001

Subject:13 ghosts part 2 (come on, people...nothing to say? Nothing you want to write about your characters? *pouts*
Posted by:ravensmother.
Time:12:10 pm.
Everyone began moving at once, Amergin running for the space in the floor now sealed again over Jeffery, Shade yanking a chair off the floor, and Nathan pulling out his gold pocket watch, looking desperate. Angel was running forward to the far doors of the library, her hands plunging into her bag and letting it fall from her arm as she grabbed two of her guns from the holsters lining the pack, bringing them up straight in front of her. She didn't have time to do anything magical, just shoot, and hope the glass wasn't safety, or even acrylic. Two bullets raced out, and then two more, before she'd taken a trio of steps, and she ducked as they ricocheted off and past her, one grazing her cheek as it went past, nicking her ear along its merry way. There was a yelp behind her, but it didn't register as Nathan's, so she didn't pay it any attention.

She slapped the butts of her pistols against her thighs, saying a little prayer to Samedi, then jerked her hands up and back, plunging hooks soldered on the backs of her guns into the tender flesh between her thumb and index finger. Pain like fire drove up her arms, and the world slowed as the drugs pushed through her system - she would have preferred not to use chemicals for this sort of thing, but it was Nathan's rote originally, which meant drugs. Two more bullets screamed out from her guns, laced with Entropy and Quint, long red lines trailing off them as they headed for the glass, the room rocking with an explosion as they hit home. She threw up her hands to guard against the inevitable rain of shards.

Twin bursts of red and yellow fire blossomed outward, flames curling up the wall to the ceiling, dissipating as fast as they'd appeared. She lowered her arms slowly, opening her eyes, looking for the damage. Two large scorch marks decorated the panel, but it was essentially unmarked. She slammed her fist against the floor in frustration, her ears beginning to clear, sound coming back. Angel looked over her shoulder at the rest of the people in the room, blinking away the spots where light had temporarily blinded her.

Amergin had shifted, but not like the huge hulking forms she had associated with werewolves, it was thinner and more stretched out, almost human, if humans were seven feet tall and very hairy. He had ripped up planks of the hardwood floor, and was clawing at steel that rested underneath, sparks flying as he dragged his hands across it. There were bloody tracks gouged into it - those fierce white claws wouldn't last much longer, before he was striking with the bones of his fingers.

Shade was battering at a panel with what was left of a very expensive chair, tossing it aside when it splintered again to punch at the glass with her fists, the shadows deepening more around her. Nathan was humming under his breath and staring at his pocket watch, a smile on his face. Angel recognized Nathan on LSD instantly, his eyes glazed over. He wasn't really seeing the pocket watch. In front of him a glass panel was opening and closing, making protestant mechanical sounds first in a loud screech, then a backwards crescendo of sound. Time was at work there.

"Nathan's got a way out! Everyone to that panel!" she shouted over Shade's booming punches and Amergin's increasingly frantic clawing. The vampire looked up first, and was outside of the panel faster than Angel could see, rubbing her arms and looking nervous. Amergin shifted back to his human form, stalking out after the Lasombra, looking death at the vamp again. Angel grabbed her bags and picked up Nathan bodily, dragging him through the wall when it opened again. She checked over herself and him, then snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. The boy as losing power at an alarming rate, though he wouldn't know it with all the drugs coursing through his system right now. She gave him a sharp slap across his face, and he dropped the watch, his eyes clearing a little, though not enough for her liking. The gold bauble swung on its chain, tapping against his leg, and he just smiled happily at her. The wall clicked shut with a final swing, and they were now trapped in the hallway instead of the library. She wasn't sure it was an improvement.

"That bastard ha' set oos up," the werewolf growled, flexing his fingers. Angel gave him a look that translated to something like "Duh" and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Now now, children," Shade spoke up, smiling at them all now, especially Nathan. He smiled sweetly back at her, like a child. "We've obviously just got to find someplace to bed down and stay put. I've seen dramatic exits before, though I gotta say this tops everything but that Tzi who missed the bear trap."

"Bear trap?" Nathan asked, his eyes still fogging by degrees. He was still smiling like an idiot.

"I threw it at him."

"Oh."

"I don't want to stay here. You guys can have this house," Angel told them, adjusting the belts at her thighs. She'd pulled her holsters from her bag and strapped them on, though working the buckles in the dark wasn't easy. She should have bought some of those nylon jobs when she had the chance, but they lacked the style of leather. She hadn't really thought that she'd have to be a functional death mage at a house sitting. "Come on, Nathan. Let's go."

"I want to look around first," her brother blurted out, his eyes clear again. At her incredulous look, he grinned sheepishly and waved around him. "Didn't you read the walls? Latin. It's death spells. That's no Son of Ether talking to us in there, Angel. He's got to be infernal. We're supposed to take care of that stuff, right? You're supposed to, anyway."

"Yeah, with a crew of 12 other Euths packing more arsenal than the US Army, Natch! Not on my own with a drugged out Cultist, a vampire, and a surly werewolf!" she yelled, getting exasperated. Why was he reminding her of her Tradition's rules? He'd hated her choice since she'd made it. It was just a mark of her annoyance that she was using his childhood nickname.

"I'm ne surly," Amergin grumbled.

Angel just rolled her eyes, squatting down to rifle through her backpack for more weaponry. She had read the walls, and it was all about spirits, not just death. Wraiths were very bad news. Very bad.

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


Michael Jeffery walked past the long line of sliding glass doors that were thankfully locked into place against nothing but air. At least, that's how it seemed. If he put on the slim blue-rimmed goggles that he was nervously tapping against his other hand, he'd see what the rooms actually contained. The smoky double lenses revealed what was normally unseen, but it made him uneasy to watch them watching him. Bad enough that he knew they were actually there. Dunet had always given him a strange explanation involving Ether and its ability to pierce the Umber, or something like that. The old man had been crazy. That was all there was to it.

What he had built this for was certainly insane. Even in all these years as an attorney for the magickally touched, he'd never seen anyone pursue a dream like this, collecting such dangerous and frankly scary things to keep in their house. Yes, there'd been that one Hermetic who'd made him go along with trying to get the scales from a golden dragon, but that had been part of a large group of similarly trained mages, and was done as humanely as possible. No one had died, least of all the dragon. But Dunet had used real people as bait, and people had been killed by these freakish things in the process of gathering them. Heaven only knew how many had died before Dunet had gotten there.

There were sounds coming from upstairs, booms and knocks. Nothing Dunet hadn't told him to expect from these people. Two were mages like the old man used to be, apparently. Who knew what havoc they were capable of wreaking in this place. He wasn't planning to stick around long enough to find out. The house was still moving around panels on the upper levels, still sorting itself out. He had time.

He reached the last room, and looked inside at the huge machine that dominated the circular place, its great wheels still. It looked old already, even though it'd been built less than a century ago. Rust had settled onto it, and though he'd been assured that it would run, he wasn't altogether sure it really would. It looked ancient and somehow alive, like a sleeping giant that would rise with the proper words. For all he knew, that was true.

Michael shook his head, and cast his gaze about to find what he'd come for and get out of here. He still had a half hour to get out before the real test of those people would begin, and he planned to be long gone by then. If he came back in the morning and they were all departed, so much the better. He'd sell this house, and that would be that. He smiled at seeing the money resting by the machine in its black backpack, just as Dunet's will said it would be. One million, all his, just for giving the old kook his time and attention for the past few decades. Not a bad deal, really, when he thought about it. He hadn't been that bad of a boss, up until the end, with all this Umber shit. Didn't matter now.

The explosions upstairs had ceased, and heavy footfalls sounded from the hallway above, which told him they'd somehow gotten out. His time was now far less than it might have been otherwise, so he had to work fast.

He lifted up the bag and slung it over his shoulder, running his hands through his hair to take off the sweat from his fingers. Little whirs sounded around him, and he lifted his head again, blinking rapidly. Metal groaned against metal, the huge machine in the middle of the room starting to shake, rust falling off like dust motes, drifting through the air and coloring it orange. He looked down at the spot where the backpack had been resting, noticing the lever that was now up from the floor, apparently held down by the weight of the cash at his back, and groaned. He'd been played for a fool.

He ran from the room with the bag bouncing against his back, his eyes wide and panicked. There was a hiss and a bang behind him, and he ran faster, shoving the goggles on his head, sparing a glance over his shoulder as he kept up his pace. Panels were moving again, and there were shouts from upstairs, but he didn't care about those people now, so much as the thing behind him.

A thin woman with large high breasts and long limp wet hair slunk from her room down the hall, her blue eyes glowing from within her head, and she raised a long rusty knife to her face as her gaze focused on him. Cuts covered her from head to toe; some old, and some so new they were still open, though there was no blood anywhere on her. She looked very dead, blue and pasty with it, right down to almost purple lips. She was almost seductively pouting at him, but there was nothing friendly or suggestive about the knife. He pounded his feet against the floor, the writing on the walls, the ceiling, the floor, all of it glowing to the smoked lenses of the goggles. He was close to the exit, though, at least. All the times Dunet had taken him down here had been partly to shock him, partly to familiarize him with the layout in case anything like this happened. He'd get there, get out, and hit the button to keep the spirits in, and then he'd be safe.

Michael rounded the corner, and slammed into another writing covered panel, bouncing off of it with an echoing thud. He shook his head to clear it, then threw himself against it again, mewling sounds tripping out of his mouth. Hot tears stung his eyes, and he turned slow, spreading his hands across the slick surface, looking for a knob, anything. Dunet had set him up to fall more thoroughly than he'd have ever believed. This door probably sealed when he lifted up the bag. It had never closed before.

He was crying like a child when the girl came around the final corner, her knife held high. Michael was regretting every time he ever stared at her breasts, even though she was dead and it shouldn't have mattered. None of the others were naked, why did she have to be? He took the goggles off, thankful that in the end, he at least wouldn't have to see death coming.

He was lifted off the floor in one great push, his suit, skin, and bone splitting from his groin to his chin, pain lancing through him. He could still feel it all, though his heart wasn't beating at all now. His brain was still registering it all, and then it shut down the pain centers, because it was just too much. Shock took him over, and he went numb. Blood as pouring from him, pooling on the floor, except for two long footprints standing in front of him. It flowed around where the woman stood, even though he couldn't see her.

Weird. He thought. He twitched, a great convulsion that shook him from head to toe, and there was nothingness.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Monday, October 29th, 2001

Posted by:ravensmother.
Time:11:28 pm.
Mood: accomplished.
Every mage had heard of the house. From the most disbelieving Hollow One to the stodgiest Hermetic, the Glass House was a legend whispered about out of your teacher's hearing. It was an enigma to even the most learned of them all; built for an unknown purpose by an Etherite named Gregory Dunet, shunned by even the other Sons for his strange ideas, the House had remained hidden from prying eyes in a small pocket realm for almost 80 years. Its location had been, up until now, a mystery.
Looking at it now, Angel had a good feeling why. The place was firstly a major node. It was swimming in juice, as if God had left a battery on the charger overnight and simply forgotten to take it back out. It would have been too paradoxical to survive the 20s to 50s, too much power in one place to make it through the battles of the 60s on. And now, with the Ascension War raging, it would become a major bone of contention between the warring underworlds of the earth. Now that it was finally in the open, and according to the invitation, its owner recently dead. The overall shape was of a four pointed star, with an enormous angel standing at each corner, dressed as a different elemental force. This one had hair that flew behind her to end in a curl, swirling currents of air making their way over her nearly naked body. That one was fire, with hair so spiked it fairly crackled, jagged flames curling up her figure.
And every wall, outside and in, was paneled by glass. And what glass! Double paned, frosted white lettering etched in flowing Latin script across the inside, most of it dealing with keeping spirits out. She supposed that for a Son of Ether, the worst thing would be the find your pristine lab suddenly overrun by the curious dead. The one time she'd been to the Shadowlands had been enough - dead were quite bored and almost constantly at war, much like everyone still alive on earth.
She took off her helmet and started unbraiding her long dyed purple hair, looking back over her shoulder to see Nathan shaking out his shaggy blonde dreadlocks beside her. He'd kept his eyes closed the entire trip - not from fear, even though she drove like a bat out of hell and he'd be perfectly justified - but to fully experience the wind rushing over his face and hands, clasped just under her breasts. His T-shirt and jeans were a stark contrast to her leather and lace dress with corset, and unlike her he'd only packed one bag, most of which was taken up with more jeans and T-shirts. He didn't wear shoes. Her boots were laced all the way up to the thigh, with wide belts strapped over them every foot, holding long hilted knives. Nathan looked ready to hike and get stoned. Angel looked ready to be attacked. They were an odd pair of twins.
"Doozy," he said, pointing to a black and white car that was all long curves parked by a beat up truck. A mammoth trike cycle had been her ride. She shrugged at him, then took up his hand, letting him carry in one of her large heavy bags. He was stronger than her, after all.
"Are you ready?" she asked, pausing in front of the door. She was getting a bad feeling already, the Baron snaking through her mind at just stepping up to the door at the waves of Entropy roiling off the walls. Even houses a century old didn't feel like this. Goosebumps broke out across her skin, and Nathan put his arm around her waist to pull her closer and share his body heat. He nodded, then grinned.
"I can't wait to feel the floor."
He reached around her, pressing her both closer to him and to the house, and rang the doorbell, deep chimes sounding through the house. She watched an indistinct shape begin to creep towards the door before it suddenly snapped into focus just before the glass, a hand turning a knob to open the house to them. Angel narrowed her eyes. The panels had looked clear as a bell, but this told her otherwise.
Standing before her was a thin black haired man who looked as Italian as the worst mobster stereotype, from his greasy hair to his sharp cut black suit and gold cufflinks. Olive skin danced over by old acne scars, a sour expression, and darting black eyes. Great.
"Come in," he said, and the accent was thick. He stepped aside and Angel made to go first, but Nathan was in before her, curling his feet on what looked to be a marble floor and smiling like a loon. She shook her head and followed, goosebumps popping out again. The Italian closed the door and twisted the long flat key three times before taking it out again, counting on his fingers. "That makes you all. Follow me."
She opened her mouth to ask where they were going, but Nathan was already walking, so she followed. She would have at least liked to have known just where it was that they were supposed to stay, and gotten her guns out of their suitcase. She felt naked without them. They were walking through more glass, and she was starting to wonder just why Gregory had made such a strange house, when Sons valued their privacy above all else. His labs must be somewhere downstairs. They started to walk past glass shelves filled with books, a smoked glass door looming before them, more writing across it. The outside wasn't the only written on surface - apparently this man had been paranoid about anything dead coming in, at any time. Open doors in this house would be its only weak point.
"This is the library," the door opener intoned, looking down his nose at the short Euthanatos before pointing to a group of chairs in front of a raging fire. Parts of people were visible around the arms and backs, some white hair here, a sharp heeled boot here. She dutifully followed the smiling Nathan, her eyes wary. "These are the other guests. Please allow me to introduce you all, before we listen to the last words of my late employer, Mr Dunet."
He started at a tall backed chair where the boot rested, a plain faced muscled woman who couldn't be more than 20 sat, smiling at them all like they'd make a particularly good meal. Her hair was black and short all over but for her bangs, which hung down to her chest. Her heels must have been almost 6 inches long on the knee length boots, encasing a pair of black jeans that hugged her hips, exposing a large expanse of white skin at her midriff. An onyx pierced her belly button, resting in the middle of a pronounced six pack, and a ripped black T-shirt completed the outfit, yellow lettering spelling out "Don't take this ass kicking personally!" across her almost flat chest.
"Mistress Shade. No last name given. Of the Lasombra Clan, and Prisci of the contested city of New York," Italian told them, as if it meant anything. All Angel had figured out was New York. Prisci was obviously a title of some sort, but she didn't know what it meant. Someone stiffened beside her, and she looked out the corner of her eye at a male white hand gripping the arm of a leather chair so hard the skin looked about to burst. It wasn't white like the vampires - there was a rosy undertone to it that one only got from albinism. Italian walked there next, looking down his nose again.
"Amergin, of the Grandfather's Se-"
"I have no Sept," the man snapped in a slurred Irish accent, his voiced touched by something a little more Southern US underneath it. Angel turned to get a good look at him, and put her hand to her mouth. Shade had been muscled and tough looking, but where this man was muscled there was nothing tough about him. His skin and hair were pure white, but dark blue eyes glared out at the vampire as if he wanted to kill her with them. His face was beautiful, decorated up one side around his cheek and eye with black tattooing, more tribal art flowing down his skin under a plain red and green plaid button down shirt, presumably continuing down his body to emerge from under a pair of worn blue jean cut off shorts, ending just before his sockless old tennis shoes.
"Very well. Amergin, of the Fianna Tribe, Galliard," the doorman sneered, getting away from the white man as soon as he could to stand beside them, the only people standing. Angel stared at Amergin, though, unable to look away. Entropy coated him, but so did Life. Nathan poked her and pointed at the Italian, whose sour face was only getting more so by the minute. She cleared her throat and watched him, wondering now what a Galliard was. She suspected some form of Orphan title, with the amount of Quintessence inside Amergin.
"Nathan Devueat. A Child of Ecstasy and owner of the Pleasure Dome in Boston, a Caern by your people some years ago, correct, Amergin?"
The white Galliard was shooting daggers at Nathan now, and Angel moved a bit closer to him, worried. Lost by his people made Amergin a werewolf. She'd never had good luck fighting them even WITH guns.
"And finally, Angel Devueat, a Euthanatos."
She felt almost bad that she had no titles. Everyone else had seemed very formal. Of course, usually hearing Euthanatos perked people's ears up enough, but these people probably didn't know what that meant. Nathan was, for his part, still grinning, rubbing a velvet cushion as if it might suddenly sprout a mouth and give him a kiss anywhere he asked it to. If he'd brought his usual assortment of drugs, there was a pretty good chance that it might.
"And who are you?" she asked, getting annoyed at all the pomp and circumstance. The Italian smiled, as if he were enjoying a particularly good joke.
"I am Michael Jeffery, the late Mr Dunet's lawyer, and the person responsible for tracking all of your down. At one time or another you met Mr Dunet, and impressed him enough that he wanted to share his secrets with you. This house was one. I hadn't even known about it until a letter mailed just before his death reached my desk, giving me instructions to contact another man like himself who traveled out here almost a week ago. I had driven past this land many a time, but never saw the house before. Why is that, Ms Devueat? Do you know?"
She kept her mouth shut. If this man wasn't aware of magic in the world, she wasn't going to tell him different. She didn't know who Dunet was, really, though apparently she'd met him.
"I find all this talk of Fianna and vampires to be extraordinarily silly, myself. But Mr Dunet was very exacting, and paid me enough to indulge him, even in his absence. Frankly, I could care less who or what you all are, so long as I can be gone from this place as soon as possible."
"Fine," Amergin smiled at Jeffery, showing a larger number of sharp teeth than he ought to have. "Then just tell us his words, and let us get out of here, too."
"I must agree with the walking pelt. I have business in New York that this is taking away from," the Lasombra, apparently a vampire, chimed in, shifting a little in her chair. For some reason, the room was darker where she sat, in spite of the fire.
"Very well. I will put in the tape, and you will get your instructions, and then I will be gone."
He tottered over to a large TV and VCR at the far end of the room, pushing a black cassette in and fiddling with a thick remote. The library came into focus, the camera panning over to a stooped over man behind a desk, his gray hair tufting up around the tell tale Ether goggles, totally at odds with his neat suit. Angel recognized him now - she'd bumped into him one night covered in gore and ichor after busting up a Nephandi den with a few friends of hers. He hadn't been wearing the glasses, and hadn't seemed surprised to see her there, much less dressed in black PVC dripping someone else's vital fluids. She'd nearly shot him out of habit, but he'd seemed to be such a confused old man that she figured him just lost and out of sorts. The Baron hadn't said anything, and now she knew why. With all the Entropy here, he must have been a practitioner of the Fates, and planned to be there. Perhaps the others had similar experiences. Well, probably Nathan had gotten high with him, but the rest might have met him some other way.
The tiny man began to speak, and she listened. "Hello, I am Gregory Dunet. And if you're seeing this, I must be dead. By the Ether I've always wanted to say that!!" a cackle came from his throat, and the man patted his belly, awfully contented for a man predicting his demise. "But that aside, I want to talk about why I brought you here. This house is my life's work, and it is too precious to be squandered by any heirs I may still have floating around, or simply looked after by people who do not have the ability to understand what it is, or how to defend it. Each of you has something to gain by possessing this house, and all of you have done me a turn by sparing me my life at one time or another."
Angel looked at Nathan, who blushed and looked away from her, pained. He wasn't a killer - it was probably more like he'd stumbled across Dunet being hurt and put a stop to it. Still, he didn't usually carry that sort of expression.
"And so, I owe you. You will all stay here tonight, locked inside, and those who do not leave the walls of this house in some form or another during the night must share the property, or allow the others to buy them out. Is that it?"
The dead man looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled again, and patted his stomach. "Yes, I think that's it! Good luck."
Angel looked at the vampire, who smiled a fanged grin back, then at Amergin, who was looking almost interested now. Nathan slid beside her and hugged himself to her, eyeing the werewolf suspiciously. Jeffery gave a snort, which brought them all back to looking at him.
"Well, you heard him. Any takers?"
"I will. Just one night here will be a simple thing," the vamp purred, licking her fingertips. Angel was definitely shooting her first, if push came to shove.
"Me as well," Amergin rumbled, settling back into his chair. He was back to glaring at Shade.
"And us," Nathan whispered, hugging her tighter. She felt like she might suddenly burst open at the squeezing. As it was, she could hardly breathe, for a couple of reasons.
"Excellent," Michael Jeffery said, pulling a lever by the fireplace, waving to them all as the floor suddenly sucked him down, the walls around them groaning. They were moving.
The walls were moving!
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Tuesday, October 2nd, 2001

Subject:A new arrival
Posted by:razornet.
Time:6:55 pm.
A tall quite gangly fellow walks in and makes his way to the bar.
Ordering a drink he shoots a glance over at the table which Blooddoll is
sitting and and makes a economic gesture with his hand in her direction.
It's clear that he is offering a drink
Comments: Add Your Own.

Friday, September 14th, 2001

Posted by:ravensmother.
Time:3:06 am.
Mood: artistic.
Angel hunched down her shoulders and moved away from the bar, giving a backwards glance at the red headed gypsy. There had been an obvious breech of the Mask or whatever they called it, and what few mortals there were in the room were alternately dazed or frozen with fear. Well, that pretty much settles it for me. Any magick here and I'll be 'Doxed right on my ass. Damn mundanes.

She listened to Samedi scream a little in her head about killing them all before it was too late, but ignored him and scuttled over to a proper table, slipping in behind a man who practically reeked of entropy and Jhor. She felt her flesh break out in goose pimples, being so close to a vampire like this one, and tried to peak at what she could see of him to try and identify his clan. Unfortunately she had come to notice that not everyone in vampire society went about broadcasting what they were, which was going to make her job all that much harder. That Malkavian she'd thought was a simple Brujah had left her gibbering for a month. Caution and research paid off.

Too bad the Baron didn't feel the same way. Kill him now! ricocheted through her mind, and she winced at the force of it. The taint on the man was just enormous, how could the others not feel it? She opened her eyes again and looked around, just in case anyone was watching - Samedi's voice was growing increasingly louder in her head, making her sweat with pain and fear. There was usually only one thing that would shut him up. She set her shoulders, and tapped the man's arm lightly, putting her best smile on her face.

Vampire seduction was relatively simple. A stroke of the neck with a finger, a touch of the wrist with a tongue, or the occasional little needle jabbed into a lip would be enough to turn any bloodsucker's head, even those who'd fed recently. This one was no different - he leaned forward eagerly, licking his lips, and the wave of nausea and evil coming off of him grew stronger every time he touched her skin. Fingers at her throat, sliding over the big vein there, a mouth moving against her wrist, another hand running along her leg, touching the knee and hinting to go higher. Why is everything so sexual with them? It is like trying to make love with your microwave dinner before you take out a bite! she mused to herself, letting her body simply respond to the caresses. Soon the proposition will come, and then we will go to a secluded p-

"Your skin is on fire," he whispered to her, and she had to admit that it did feel nice up against her ear, hot breath washing over it like a tide. That was probably his idea of a pick up line. He must be young.

"For you," she said, and he smiled against her skin. Success!

"Know where that dress would look best? In a pile beside my bed," he leered at her, and it took all her resolve not to roll her eyes. She'd go back to this creature's lair shortly after losing what was left of her mind.

I can't wait that long," she whispered back, starting to become aware of the few people looking their way as his hand started to creep up her thigh. She put her hand over his to stop it - if he found her gun it would be all over before it started. Unless, of course, he was kinky.

"Mmmm...the bathrooms are always empty," he said, tugging on her hand and already beginning to stand, his fingers in a vice like grip on her wrist. Obviously she was meant to follow whether she wanted to or not. She really hated pushy men. But she stood as well and stumbled after him like a typical drunken idiot, what he was probably expecting. The kind of people who enjoyed getting sucked dry by men like this weren't exactly in their right minds as far as she could tell, usually drunk or stoned or high on something else in addition to the vampire's Kiss addiction. The gypsy was almost to the vampire who'd floated the bottle, but Angel wouldn't be able to watch the show, the bathroom looming up in front of her like a prison's. They slipped inside and hadn't gotten two feet before the vampire was tugging at her dress and corset, pushing himself against her throat, and trying to pin her arms to the wall at the same time, making it even more of a struggle than it might have usually been.

She shoved him away and pulled a knife from the sheath on her thigh in one practiced motion, nearly dropping it as the vampire rushed at her again, groping her instead of concerning himself with the heavily engraved and ornamented knife that looked as if it would snap trying to cut paper. Unfortunately for him it wasn't meant to cut, and as she pulled the blade upwards she could feel the world pressing back against her, Baron Samedi screaming in her head, and finally the rush of energy and power that meant she was successful in performing the rote that nearly every Euthanatos knew. Rip the man Body was a devastating effect.

The vampire was surprised for a moment as the knife scratched a line up his skin, cutting through his clothes like a sword through silk, even though the knife was so dull its edges were rounded. Then he took on a whole new expression as his body split from the inside out, the skin parting over bone, bone separating from tissue, convulsing as his body literally tore itself apart. He didn't even have the muscle control to scream.

The soul departed a few seconds later, and Angel took stock of the situation. She had just about tempted fate as much as she normally liked to in performing that rote...but now there was a large mess on the floor.

Shit.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Thursday, September 13th, 2001

Subject:Wipin' it down, down, down. - Classification: Bart and Lae (REPOST!)
Posted by:ex_laedeval.
Time:7:32 pm.
Mood: bitchy.
The paragraphs didnt work!!! Here it is correctly, I hope!

Sapphire colored eyes roamed over to Blooddoll, as her hands reached down for a glass, the rim edged a soft pink. Fingertips firmly pressed at its sides, cupped into her palm. A white cloth was in the other hand, the fabric dinking down into the glass as it was given a gentle twist.


Small, golden clips entrailed within her blonde locks, trimmed with red streaks that curled only at the tips. Bangs overlapping the forehead, hiding the small trickles of sweat that flowed like tiny rivers.


It was one of those nights, when she could hear her own heartbeat. Almost as if she was the only one that had one. But this thought didn't trigger itself, for she was blind to what was around her. Sure, she knew something was different. Especially moments before, when the glass of bourbon had flown across the room on its own, a man shimmering into view when no man had been there before. And who was he, anyways? Never had she seen him before. Was he knew?


Her blue gaze rolled back to the woman in charge, Blooddoll, it was. Full lips found themselves puckering together into a tight frown, as if she was suddenly worried about something. And then she graced her customers with her eyes, streaking them down the bar, looking at each and every one of the patrons.


They stopped at the end, on Lae, a beautiful woman that spoke with a cat-like purr, a sultry accent that made a person just shudder. Not that Bart was attracted to women, mind you. The feeling went deeper than that. Like she could reach into your heart, your mind, your soul.


--

Lae gave a soft sigh, the tip of her index finger circling the rim of her glass, the contents being red wine. She never drank it, except in minute amounts that dripped down from her fingers. It was a game to her, a very boring and complicated game - between herself and the liquid.


Tonight, her slick locks of auburn spilled over her back and shoulders, starting with curls about halfway down and ending at the small of her back. One elbow had itself pressed against the edge of the black lacquered counter, index and thumb slowly caressing a few strands between the two. Jade colored eyes were surrounded by a thin layer of black eyeliner, just a hint of it. Other than that, she wore no makeup. The flesh was smooth, silky. As if time had stopped the aging process, which it in fact had.


She wore black this evening, a symbol of her it became to be. Once decked in velvet, as she had her first night here. But that quickly changed, as she sat amongst her kind. They simply depressed her, more than when she stood alone. Along the edge of the shoreline, back in another part of the country. How the wind had whipped forcibly at her hair and dress, sending it all billowing upwards, the only thing keeping it from floating away was herself. This was much like how she felt now, floating in a dreamlike state, her conscience keeping her down.


Her backside squirmed atop the stool, a soft huff of air escaping the cushion she sat upon. Bare feet pressed at the bottom rung, her toes wiggling from time to time. She looked up then, to find Bart staring up at her, a soft smile creeping up the corners of her mouth.


--

Bart quickly found herself looking away, a hint of a blush onto her cheeks. They warmed considerably, and it just made her blush more - to know that she was doing it in the first place. A white sleeve pulled up then, to wipe generously at the brow, dabbing the fabric with sweat and makeup.


It was nearly two in the morning, her shift was over at four. She anticipated the hour, and it only made the evening longer that it usually was. Her hands moved quickly, at an order of a vodka shot, finger pressing the valve open as it poured down into the glass. The alcohol dripped over the top, pooling onto the counter. But it was quickly wiped away, leaving only a faint shimmer of liquid behind.


This evenings customers seemed to be needing more of the hard liquor than the fruity half and half she normally served them. Tonight was different, but how come? She sensed something, something stiff and tense. Almost like it was going to blow, everyone murmuring quietly to themselves.


Perhaps it was her imagination, but sometimes she could hear them talking, without moving any part of their body. Her eyes roamed back towards Blooddoll, giving her a total look of confusion, as these thoughts simmered in her head. And then she looked away, as if she had caught herself in some sort of deviant act.


--

Lae had been watching her now, seeming quite interested in this young blonde. From pinky to index, her fingers drummed against the counter. Her other hand was up, the palm delicately cupping her chin. Manicured nails softly dug into the flesh, leaving soft red marks that quickly vanished as her fingers twitched.


A soft "Mm," rose from her throat, as an elegant brow lofted upwards. Her jade colored eyes transfixed onto the beauty before her. That faint smile upturned into a slight grin, as she watched the confusion erupted onto Bart's face. Not that Lae found this humorous, but merely fascinating.


The girl was something, as far as Lae could distinguish. And right then she felt why no one had bothered with the girl. It sent a soft shiver down her spine, sparking the nerves. Her back straightened up, her shoulders rolled back, the action uplifting her breasts a tad more than usual.


She was innocence, by any standard definition of such. Not an innocence you could detect with a glance, or a conversation. No, most likely she didn't even know - nor her family and mortal friends. On any such occasion, she would have immediately been dealt with. But it seemed as if she were protected by many, who on a normal basis be at fault to destroy one another. Such at one point, they had come to kill such a being, but on one gaze into those eyes, fell into a deep sleep - their lost humanity uprising and sprouting into the emotion of love. An emotion that was simply lost to many. Yet it was nothing like that. Not love, no. Not anything that could really be explained.


It tickled Lae's senses, her full lips parting to let out a soft groan. The immense power that she succumbed to right then and there enveloped her body and all Lae could do was sigh. With a twitch of her eye, she was there too. Surrounded by them all, like she had broke their chain to allow herself in, her hands curling into the hands of her enemy. But it didn't matter. They were all there for the same reason. To protect, to love, to shine. Perhaps some had come for their own greedy desires, but there were also many that wanted to care, -needed- to care.


But she wasn't really there, now was she? Neither was anyone else. Of course they weren't. Not in the physical sense at least. She knew why she had never felt it before, it was so small of a feeling, like a breath of air. Just taken for granted and always there, it was that hard to detect one from another. And you had to want to see it, really want it. You could have been told about such a place, but never could find yourself reaching it. It was like it accepted you when it wanted to be accepted, as if it took a bit of Bart to want you to see it. Her heart, her - everything.


--

And Bart knew nothing of this, although she did sneak a quick glance back to Lae. She found the woman sitting atop her stool, the palm of her hand clasped just above the breast. So Bart had immediately rushed over, an arm extending to allow fingers to dance over those locks of auburn, hesitantly brushing them back behind Lae's ear for her, as if Bart knew the woman couldn't do it herself. "Have another," is what she murmured, soon replacing Lae's old glass with a newer version. . .



LV

Comments: Add Your Own.

Wednesday, September 12th, 2001

Subject:May the force be with you!
Posted by:ex_lizaveta33.
Time:2:21 am.
Mood: sleepy.
Stupid. Yanno, I've been posting to LJ forevah, and I *now* just realized I never posted either of the groups I belonged to. *cough* I meant to do that. DA ROCK! Anyhow, I was gently nudged into posting by someone who will remain nameless Blooddoll. So, like it.

Broke my pinky finger. Ow. Not amused. Can't play VB now, at least not for awhile. Definately not amused.

Figured out what I'm doing for my next tattoo. Yay. Drew part of it out. Probably will get it when I go to Cali, maybe take SOMEONE with me. *winks*

Feeling a bit blah. Spent a few days in West Virginia and Virginia. Stupid. Though, went to a club in D.C. Was swank, I liked it. *shrugs* Had to come back home. Blah. Still not amused.

There. If you're happy and you know it clap your hands..
Comments: Add Your Own.

Tuesday, September 11th, 2001

Subject:Bartender - Classification: Introduction
Posted by:ex_laedeval.
Time:12:02 am.
Mood: sleepy.
Bart. That was her name. At least that's what it was to her customers. She actually prefered it to her real one. Sometimes. Her birth name really didn't matter, did it? Not as long as the Masquerade blanketed them all. You could really be whomever you wanted. Well, in theory anyways. The bottom line was, she was human. She was nothing to everybody. She was breakfast, lunch and dinner.
She didn't have to be what she was. She chose to remain mortal. And she was thankful enough that they had left her alone afterwards. There was this aura about her, one of innocence. Not pure mind you. Anyone in their right mind knew that there was no such thing.
"It would be such a shame to corrupt this being, to pass on our blood, to give her life beyond death. Never would she look the same again if such was to happen. She reminds me a little of myself before the kiss. How I miss those days. Better to watch, to live my old life through her. Watch her grow, watch her suffer, watch her in her last breath. I want to hear it. I want to hear the soft exhale of life. And I want to cry."
Such one had said after the inquire of her sire, if she thought Bart to make a good cannidate for their House. The next day, the couple packed up and left. A little note was left atop the black laquered countertop of the bar, along with a long stemed rose - white - the color of friendship. "You are love," it read, the three words written in black, the parchment a crisp white and tattered around the edges.
She saved the petals, locking them up in a mason jar. To this very day they remained, snugged behind the bar and kept hidden to the eyes of her customers. The note was in her room, inside a shoebox that perched atop the highest shelf of her closet. It was mixed with many other tidbits of her life. Letters from her old college lovers, keychains from amusement parks that she found odd in her own way, bumper stickers that screamed "Honk if you're Horny!" and "Bite me!" She never dreamed of actually putting those on her automobile, they only signified the friends she had happened upon at one point or another. Her memory 'chest'. Permanent markers of many colors decorated the box, as well as small stick-on gems that really had no value at all. Wrappers of her favorite candies, article clippings that she thought were good enough to remember. That sort of thing.
Her room was out in the slave quarters, with the rifraff that scuttled their way in and out at all hours of the night. She tried so many things to keep the noises out, from stuffing cotton balls into her ears to blaring her radio. Finally, one morning, when enough was enough, she calmly let herself out. She took her time, letting her arms stretch out to either side while she twirled in small circles up the pathway to the barn. She laughed, she waved to the squirrels and birds that loomed in the moss-laiden trees above her.
When she came back, she had a sledge hammer and one of those little white masks that covered just your mouth and nose. The hammer leaving scratches on the hardwood floor as she dragged it into her room. Weeks went by, her room in total chaos as she smashed large chunks of white-wall. Little pieces of the chalky substance falling upon the white sheets she had draped over her furniture(which consisted of a cot and dresser drawers). And it took her months after that, to pad the insides - to purchase more white-wall. But finally, it was coming to be -her- room. Her hideway, her sound proof room.
She purchased little voodoo dolls that she had she had seen in a store on Bourbon Street, porcelian mardi gras masks that captured the many emotions of humanity, little knick-knacks from the French Market. Oh, how she loved the French Quarter. Always buzzing with life. She would smile, watching the people run from corner to corner - bar to bar. From the HardRock Cafe to Margaritaville. Older versions of life wearing strange parrot hats and too many beads. Sometimes she would stop in front of Tropical Isle, an open bar, the one with the balcony that jutted out over the street, and watch the young people guzzle the all famous Hand Gernades. Lime mixed with the heaviest of alcohols. One sip and you could get a buzz.
She also loved taking the trolley, from St. Charles to the Quarter. Watching the excitement in the visitors faces as they anticipated their arrival. How they fought with the driver when they didn't bring the exact $1.25 needed to ride. She kept to the back and always gave up her seat when the trolley would fill. So used to the sudden stops of the car, she never used the handles anymore.
This is who she was, a giver. . .

( to be continued when the mun can think ;) )
-LV.

Posted by:nghtvxn.
Time:1:08 pm.
Mood: curious.
Eyes intranced on the crowd knowing Blooddoll sits at the table, The crowd returns to there general chitchat. Visions of the past years ago race her mind... Her older sister protected her after they where separated from their parents, But on a stormy night her sister was dragged away in to the darkness, left with her yelling "trust no one, friends Come and go But trust no one, you must Protect yourself, You must be wary dear sister! Till Then We'll meet again someday!"

A single tear sheds the right cheek as She wipes it away as she glances Blooddoll over, Curiosity just what is about to happen...
Comments: Add Your Own.

Saturday, September 8th, 2001

Posted by:nghtvxn.
Time:9:26 am.
Mood: creative.
...Slowly Reappearing from the darkness, A long Black Cloaked figure appears the clock exposes in the dim light within the shadows a women, with long flame red hair It's long and wild looking as It hangs past her shoulders , Her body exposed with a Leather body mini hugging her firm body. Her dark Hazel eyes glance about, The crowd hundle together whispering, terrified but curious. the women Turns slowly Looking back in to the darkness of the shadows then looks back only to the crowd.

Snickering a Lil' she sits at the table in the corner from where she appeared from the wall of the Shadows. Noticing teh staring still she see's the Bartender also staring, Waving her hand A bottle of Bourbon floats from off the wall beyond the bar towards the mystery of whom all wonder , It lands gently on the table....
Comments: Read 3 orAdd Your Own.

Friday, September 7th, 2001

Posted by:ravensmother.
Time:4:07 am.
She felt overwhelmed, to put it lightly, as the sun shoved itself fully down the throat of the world, and the vampires came out to play. One was obviously the owner of this club, and everyone knew it, parting in front of her like silk when she walked down the stairs. A red headed gypsy, if the face was anything to go by, but then with vampires you really couldn't tell. They didn't just have make up to change them, or the sphere with their potential backlash - no, they had the...

She bit her lip in concentration, unbelieving that her training and her studying had decided to leave her now. So much was probably myth, but there had to be kernels of truth in there. If nothing else there must be truth in the names, and the huge war between an organization of the status quo and the Sabbat who'd overthrow it. Angel was still unsure of what side to pick, if any. There were so many possibilities.

Tzimisce! That was it. Flesh crafting. vampires who could create new faces and bodies without fear of what static reality would do to them for trying it. Somehow they possessed a way to keep Paradox from touching them. Her mentor had thought that it was because they were removed from the Pattern at the time of death, but that couldn't be so, for she and Samedi could see their webs of influence stretching through history so easily. Nothing was removed from the Pattern, not even the unliving. So there must be something.

A ghost of a hand brushed her face and she turned to watch a shorter man enter, a harlequin on his shirt, moving easily around the room to order up a drink. He waves and it is then that Angel realizes that she is now sitting next to the woman from the stairs - or rather, that the woman from the stairs has sat next to her. Thankful for the white make up that covers her shocked paleness, she tries to remain still as Samedi screams in her ear to get away, that she can't take on this woman, not now, not here, and for the Loa's sake, don't touch that book!!

She presses her fingers to her head, and massages her temples, looking into the calming amber of her drink, itching to play a game of cat's cradle to at least see what the next few minutes will bring. But doing that would reveal her nature - if the woman was even human to begin with, and didn't see her as a moving node like the werewolves did. It would be just what she needed having some strange vampire mutation attempting to siphon off her Quint and getting themselves toasty in the process before she could even ask a question.

Outnumbered, outclassed, and definitely outmaneuvered. Maybe I should play her little game...
Comments: Add Your Own.

Subject:From The darkness of the Shadows....
Posted by:nghtvxn.
Time:12:07 pm.
Mood: cynical.
In the darkness within the shadows, A presence lurks. Watching and listening to all that goes on within the bar. Her gaze slowly noticed Raz entering heading towards the bar, Blood doll and her slender attraction turning heads only moments before... Thinking to ones self "It's not time yet to appear, It's not time" However unable to hold her position A reddish flame reveals her where abouts Only to fade away... fading back to lurking, Watching the bar and it's crowd.
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Subject:And there he comes
Posted by:razornet.
Time:12:01 am.
Mood:anticip.............ation.
And so he walks in, inevitable really. Wherever theres action, life, love despair, defeat, take your pick. He get's there. Large enough to be intimidating, handsome enough to be the boy next door, rugged enough to be scary to anyone not overly matched. Thats Raz.

Raz walks into the bar with a purpousful stride, heading for the bar itself. Sketching a wave to BD which tells her he isn't betting this evening. He buy a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and two glasses. He moves to table and sets them down, one in front of him and one across the table and pours two good measures. He downs his and pours another.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Wednesday, September 5th, 2001

Posted by:ravensmother.
Time:12:48 am.
Mood: calm.
Angel looked up from her place at the bar, checking her watch against the building's own, thinking it was a bit off. Of course, hers was a gift from a Son of Ether, so she was careful not to activate the light up feature. No one liked being suddenly blinded by what amounted to a blue Mag flashlight at full blast right in their squinting eye.

Just as she thought - three minutes slow. Her eyes narrowed at the huge wall clock and did some quick calculations in her head. The second hand of the neon monstrosity began to move at a slow crawl across the face, the mechanics of the thing whining a little at the struggle. Aside from a few clicking noises that most people couldn't hear though, no one should be the wiser until four minutes later, when it would tell the correct time. I might not be able to slow down time itself, but the clocks don't know the difference, she thought, lighting up a cigarette and wiping a bit of sweat off her forehead. Pushing herself to change something that big even that much in front of all these drunken dancing people was still a strain. Didn't help that New Orleans seemed to have it's own little magic sense and didn't like hers much. Probably something to do with all the vampires and Nephandi about. But I'll do something to change that.

She let out a cloud of smoke and ran a hand down her hip and thigh, touching the gun that rested there. This club didn't even rate a weapons check, which told her more than anything else - the bouncers were probably confident that they could handle anything - vampires themselves, by the whispers Samedi was feeding to her ear - which made them fairly stupid. Few Disciplines that a vampire possessed prepared them for a mage. Those that were...Let's just say I've learned a few painful lessons.

She took another drink, and waited.

Friday, August 17th, 2001

Subject:First off
Posted by:ravensmother.
Time:4:33 am.
This journal has been created so people can RP within the World of Darkness. No copyright infringement is meant, we're just here to RP. No moolah is made and all that jazz.
Playing will be done entry by entry.
The setting is that of the venerable city of New Orleans, Louisiana.
Mages, Vampires, Werebeasts, regular old humans, sorcerers, and Immortals are included, but the rest are right out, as most people do not really know how mummies and Fey work.
I hope that this will be kept at a reasonable power level, so that we do not have city leveling as an everyday occurrence. Free thought is encouraged. I hope every one has fun!




Maps by Expedia.com Travel

www.expedia.com

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