ConstableWalrus

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

could do that, might be for the best.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Went ahead and posted, figured it would be good to get it done, and yay! New post!

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Alban watched and listened, the unamused look on his features and the slow scraping of his own claws against the soft wood of the table as the male thrall spoke pretty words for a fucking marionette And then the female spoke for the first time, the glazed dumb look in her face faded quickly enough for Alban to raise a bald brow.

Strings tighten, dance puppet dance he cast his gaze around to the others of his kind watching their faces for a quick moment before turning back to the woman and listening, intrigue and strife would swallow them all except the under-dwellers. He let a small smile cast about his features at the thought which dissipated at the mention of a call. And he leaned back watching intently at the scene when the feeling hit him.

Burning pain in his lungs and throat as if something was squeezing it with a burning fist and he clutched at it with a clawed hand resisting the sudden urge to tear at his own body to drive the pain out. Fighting the urge he slammed the claws down into the table and dug in his body convulsing as he could feel the immense rush of power and he snapped his section of table from it and it disintegrated. The feeling was wonderful; He could taste every different part of the rat he had early in the night, the smells of fresh kills still on everyone exploded into his senses and Alban could hear the thrumming of heartbeats of the scurrying things under the dock thrumming in his ears. His skin burned hot and the feeling of his body rapidly changing and adapting. His mouth shot open wide in a visage of pain but before it could be added a voice the pain suddenly ceased.

He let out a deep sigh of frustration mixed with relief at the feeling of normalcy returning and he glared at the thrall for a quick moment. "So, whelp of mister X." he stood and stretched feeling the rush of power abate "I don't think anyone here, even the thickest of us in the head would say they did not want to feel that again." He hissed out a breath and rolled his head "But, I don't think I'm going to be whipping my cock out and wavin' it about... But if your master has this kind of power. Why in the hell does he need us?"

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Well, put my reply post up. hope you all enjoy it although it is short.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Alban watched the thrall as he went through it's motions, the tone as force as the chuckle and smile. Reminded him of a game-show host and it made his claws twitch as he rapped them against the wooden table. Alban leaned forward dragging the claws against the wood as he did the large marks indented into the wood.

Alban kept his blue eyes on not only the thrall but the surrounding myriad of other vampires. Watching them carefully from under the deep hood. Pretty things all of them. and the claws dug harder into the wood creaking his section of the table. and waited for the thrall to finish before he spoke.

"So let me get this straight puppet. Your..." He pulled his clawed hand from the wood splintering most of it off and rolled his wrist "Master wants to help me?" a chortle erupted from him, his heavily accented voice trailing off afterwards "Must be taking the piss." Ablan leaned back fully and the hood fell from his face showing the terrible mark of his breed, the paled dead skin the sharper features and the sickly look of him.

"I am taking a risk by being here puppet. The under baron sees much through our eyes." Alban let out a grunt and kicked the worn mud covered shoes onto the table and rolled his jaw until it gave an audible crack. "And we are to expect that this master of yours is doing out of the kindness of its black dead heart?" Alban leaned to the side the cracking of his jaw letting some of the congealed rat blood and hair that was stuck in his teeth released and he spit it out onto the floor before wiping his lips with the sleeve and looking hard at the thrall.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

I would also like to chime in, great post first of all Nox, so excited to get this started!

And as for my District i'd like to be under Ánhaga "The Recluse" if that is okay.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

September 9th, 2016. Friday Night.

Alban waited below street level; looking upwards at the grate from under his deep hood and his eyes narrowed, the beat of the clubs music had started he wagered about an hour prior. The heavy thumping of whatever new version of trash they were playing this week was irritating and grinding on his head. But there was one upside, it drew food.

His head cocked hearing small scratching on the concrete tunnel and splashing coming towards him and with a quick motion he grasped the large rat sinking his teeth into the creature as it squeaked in pain squirming before eventually falling still. It’s body shriveling up as Alban drained the small vermin of it’s blood. Tossing it away and casually wiping the blood off his lips and face with the inside of his jacket and flexed his hands moving up the sides of the concrete sewer the claws on his hands digging in and finding perch to crawl his way up to the grating and push it open.

As he felt the fresher air of the open alley his eyes adjusted to the light creeping in from the street lamps mingling with the neon sign of a club just across the street; His eyes scanned the alley finding nobody in sight; far too early for drunks and users to stumble their way into places that should not be.

Alban’s features suddenly scrunched up, and he leaned forward spitting out a wad of tangled fur and fat from his teeth, and he pulled back to his full height the look of disgust on his face evident as he wiped it on his sleeve. Worst part about the rats he thought to himself as he looked down at the clump of bloody fur and body fat noticing a newspaper beside it. Alban picked it up from the dirty alley floor.

[Murders on south side, Police chief urges crackdown on gang violence] The headline read and he rolled his eyes. moving the paper underarm and pulling the hood on his face down looking outwards towards the street, people were still walking by. None brave enough to glance into the dark alley let alone walk into it. And all were dressed up ponces waiting to get stupid and laid. And he hated them for it, hated them being normal.

His head shook shaking himself out of his own thoughts as someone stopped at the entrance of the alley and began to walk forward, it was slow. But the woman was making progress into it; he slipped deeper into the alley moving towards the old brick building and dug his claws into it scaling up it and slowly making his way crawling along the wall like a spider.

She didn’t look like much, but at this point it did not matter. It was young, fresh looking enough, and would be better than the rat he had been drinking the past few days. Except for the stray dog that wandered a little too far, he mused that it was a good night from dead anyway. But this was fresh. And he licked his lips as the woman entered the middle of the alley he dug his heels in and kicked off the building landing quietly behind her and reared back a hand to grab her.

When she turned around and he saw the face, there was no fear. No emotion, just dead eyes and she carried a note. “Fuck.” Alban hissed aloud “Fuckin’ first fresh meal in a week and it turns out to be a fuckin’ thrall. What do you want then?” He put his hands to the side tapping his foot impatiently angry at missing a meal and now this dim witted thrall was looking through him as if he was not there.

The well dressed woman said nothing other than thrusting an envelope into his chest and turning and started walking back out into the street “Oi! whats this about?” He called after the thrall but it continued to ignore him and walk out into the street disappearing into the next group that walked by. “Yeah and fuck off then…Creepy fuckin’ bitch.” He muttered looking down at the envelope turning it and reading the face his eyes narrowed at the mention of a blood oath to even open the damned thing and he opened his jacket and placed it into a pocket.

His eyes looked up at the old brick buildings and he took a cautionary glance at the street before he leaps to the side gripping in and scaling up it quickly, his talon like claws gripping easily into the old brick and as he reached the top hopping over the edge he wiped his hands, the only sign of his climb a few chunks out of the old brick and the scaring of a few birds. He pulled the envelope from his jacket and gave it another once over clicking his tongue as he drew a claw up his arm getting a small cut and let it spatter on the envelope breaking the seal and he read the contents within.

September 10th, 2016. Saturday Night

Alban had read and reread the note over and over again throughout his time moving through the drainage tunnels and sewers taking the occasional detour over a rooftop for some fresh air and a few birds he could manage to sneak up on.

... For those seeking advancement He chuckled lightly in his throat, the wording left much to be desired for detail but he would let it slide, his thoughts broken up as he reached the heavy drainage gate that led near the dock in question. He swiped at the metal and he tore through the thin sheet easily; tugging it back to create a hole for himself and slipped through bending it back into somewhat of the same place.

The sound of the water hitting shore and concrete was the first thing to hit his ears, and the docks were more quiet than he expected at this time of night. He looked up at the sky and pulled the deep hood; gripping into the concrete and climbing up the sides until he was on level with the many warehouses above.

Counting the numbers down as he passed the docks until he saw the bright yellow Spray Paint of Dock 15 he put his hands into the deep pockets of the hoodie and made his way towards the illuminated office; spotting inside the thrall from the night prior and a man just as well dressed.

Opening the door slowly he peered inside; Greeted by the man while the woman simply stared into space “Welcome, have a seat.” The man stated in a cheerful tone and continued “We are waiting for a few others and then we will get started.”

Alban nodded keeping the hood pulled over his face and hands in his pockets as he sat down hard in one of the desk chairs his tall and gaunt form stretching as he moved his legs into a more comfortable position, the hood still covering most of his face as he sat quietly his arms resting on the table in-front of him, his claws making marks.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Fantastic first post, I should have mine up within a few hours.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Name/Alias: Andrew Lennox (Birth Name) Alban (Taken)
Age: 51; Age of Immortalisation 25 (26 years as a vampire)
Physical Description/Picture:

Hider

Standing at 6'9 and with the gaunt frame held withing shabby clothing and a deep hoodie. There beneath lay the face of Alban. The sickness in his last few days as a human, and the strain afflicted have taken the toll on his appearance; his eyes remained the same pale blue, but his skin already pale from his illness became a deathly ill colour the veins on his body constricted showing the blue lines across his features and any hair that was left had vanished. His hands bore longer fingers clawed at the end with frighteningly sharp points

Strengths:
Claws; while not only making any attack made by his hands one that would disembowel prey, it also grants him the ability to scale most structures finding easier grip than others without the gift of these terrible weapons.

Bio-filtering; Being able to drink the blood of the young and healthy is one thing, but it is another to drink from one of the less fortunate. This enables Alban to drink from the sick, dying and drug fueled and turn it into sufficient nourishment without himself falling ill or weak after the feeding.

Weakness:
Due to his sickness before his turning and the unique strain. His visage is twisted and terrible making him unable to blend in unlike the average vampire. Along with no mental abilities, he cannot coerce or mystify humans into coming willingly with him making meals harder to achieve without being seen.

Being one who mostly stays to dark alleys away from the light; even that of streetlamps and neon if he can manage. He is very sensitive to bright lights and finds that it irritates his skin. and is especially sensitive to phosphorescent light bulbs.

Motivations: Redemption, Resentment. Hating not only himself, but what he had done in his human life; and the coward way he broke towards the end holds a weight on him. But it is countered by resentment, of the other vampire bloodlines, treating him as a lesser, a freak even within their own circles. He has been on the fringe of both his human life and now his second one. But this time he will claw his way to make them see they are terribly mistaken of their own positions of power.

History:
Born in Glasgow, Scotland in March of 1965 to a poor family; his father being a steelworker and bringing home just enough to get himself, his mother, and his two sisters fed and a home under their roof. This became harder for the Andrew and his family as the city itself fell into dark times during his younger years as most of the manufacturing plants the steelworks his father worked at, mines, engine production centers led his family down a difficult path with unemployment everywhere the city became a slum and gangs of youth were prevalent.

When Andrew turned 15, in an attempt to bring some money into his family. He joined up with a young gang during the winter of 1980. They modeled themselves after the 'Glasgow razor gangs' of the 1930's using fear, brutality, and theft to gain money and along with the money drugs and women whatever they wanted they had. During this time though to help keep his family fed, drew him deeper into the gang, the things that people tried to get their kids away from.

December of 1989 shortly before the crackdown of the police in Glasgow on these youth gangs that had sprung from the poverty and fear of the Economic crash and the immediate urban decline in the 1970's. Andrew had started to become very ill; nausea, headaches, and urinating blood were never a good sign to anyone. Due to his waning health he separated himself from the gang shortly before the crackdowns from the police started. His family all but disowning him after finding out what his 'job' had been for these years if he was going to die he was at least going to make a trip out of it. One last go before keeling over.

Gathering up what he had of his funds, only sending a last envelope full of money and a note to his parents he boarded the first train out of the city heading for the port city of Edinburgh and taking the first ship to the United States. The cost wasn't to terrible though the cargo ship that let him come aboard for a fee was hardly luxury but it suited him. Surviving for as long as he did away from the comforts of home on the street left him able to cope.

Reaching Charleston, SC he stepped off the boat during the long trip his hair had already begun to fall out, and his appetite was less than normal. One of the kinder sailors helped him shave his head before docking and setting off into the dark streets of the city; for a month he floated bar to bar hotel to hotel. And every week he became sicker and more tired. Alcohol among other things numbed the pain but did not slow the inevitable march of the cancer.

Until he met him; it was after a particularly heavy night of drinking and feeling sorry for himself. And of course after calling the waitress a slag and getting himself tossed out to the sidewalk staggering towards the one of the side alleys and began to painfully piss on the buildings to the side.

The bum that approached looked like death, worse than he did. And Andrew did not know if it was seeing someone whom looked worse off than him, or this particular night of feeling like shit that made him wanted everything to end, all of it. The vomiting, the terrible pain, the headaches and blood coming from everywhere it seemed.

He broke down and begged, and the bum answered. With a solution, an escape. A way out from every ounce of pain. And Andrew took it.

Now changed forever; he acts on the behalf of his bloodline and sire, as a spy in the dark places most of the other family's would not sully their hands with. Information is his bloodlines lifeline that keeps them dangerous to the other clans.

Connections:
Jakob (sire): And older vampire of his bloodline, and a cunning one at that. While not as ghoulish as Alban, he still bears the mark of the bloodline.

Tides of Sedition [upstart vampires, political bollocks]

Just chiming in! I'm very interested and hope this does get off the ground!