Fallen Muse
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Where's my Obi Wan?
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Get on IRC Idle!
Outside the city of Chittor, where the FedSun backed State of Allavar had dug in and was waiting for their assault to begin, hustle and bustle went about the camps preparing for war. Within one such tent, two representatives met, to negotiate the pay of the spearhead of the assault. The Administrator for the Dark Talons, Sara, was discussing the matters of hazard pay and repair costs that the inevitable damage occurring from the assault. Both sides of the negotiating table had reason for wanting their way, the Capellan representative still needed their heavy mechs for the assault, but couldn't afford to be completely gouged by the mercenary band. Sara, on the other hand, knew full well the Dark Talon's would need that extra amount of C-bills and coverage for repair costs, considering the firestorm the combat troops would be walking into. How much she could get, though, was debatable, considering their source of income on this job was as much salvage as it was actual hard pay from the Capellan purses. They had been talking for some time already, so Sara had a feeling for how high she could go with the man and potentially get away with it, and she politely listened as he made the most recent counteroffer.
"Ma'am, we have been planning this maneuver for some time, and I can assure you that they are not that well dug in that your last offer would be anything necessary. Half a million c-bills extra would suffice, which would be more than enough for the repairs without my employers required to put any additional payment towards the repair costs for your mercenary regiment." Sara knew that simply would not due, not in the slightest. A million minimum, and at least 10% repair costs was what she had in mind, and being lowballed like that was both unflattering and almost insulting. She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow as she mock considered his offer, and the man knew full well she wouldn't go that low, and was gauging her reaction which, credit to the Dark Talon administrator, didn't give anything useful away to the man's mental thought processes, and she replied with a counter offer to that. "Two million C-bills, and 30% on the repairs. We've been running this kind of firepower that you've never had experience with, we know precisely what we need to get the job done, and to break that hardened position wide open for you."
The Capellan retaliated with another offer, much closer to what Sara had been angling for as a compromise now. "1.5 Million c-bills, and and 15% of repair costs. Surely you would find that more reasonable than your last offer?" Sara sat there in actual contemplation, thinking on her low limit and the previous offers they had been trading back forth. She would take that, but she made one last effort at upping the repair costs that the Capellen boys would be taking off their hands. "Make that 20% of the repair costs, and you have a deal." The Capellen sat there, the chance to end these negotiations that had run for too long in his mind sitting right there, close to what he had offered, and finally submitted, nodding his consent and drawing up the paperwork. "Deal, an extra 1.5 million c-bills and coverage of 20% of the repair costs of the Dark Talons." Sara nodded, not betraying her pleasure with this deal, and went about getting the paperwork in order for the deal to be legally binding between the two organizations.
- --
The negotiations were not the only activity going on that concerned the Dark Talons. While they had been going on, Kashra had organized her troops within a patch of the forest overlooking the city and its defenses. The clearing had the mechs powered down, the only person still in their mech was Kashra herself sitting inside her Warhammer, though she was about to get out. The other mechs were powered down beside her, the two Dragons sitting to her left while the Helios was parked to her right. On the ground in front of them were the various battle armors in no particular order, the Grenadier and Salamander armor grouped together with the Rottweilers sitting in front of those four battle armor units. The pilots themselves were by their respective equipment, talking to each other. The two male pilots of the Grenadier units were talking with the women who piloted the Salamander's, while the sisters who piloted the Rottweiler battlearmor were discussing flanking maneuvers between the two of them, laughing at previous stories of them having shredded unsuspecting enemies that thought that only one Rottweiler had been discovered, the other sister coming out of the woodwork to bring them low with an unexpected assault.
The woman who piloted the Helios was discussing the assault ideas she had with the two Dragon pilot, the men respecting her ideas and offering alternatives and improvements to the overall ideas and theories she had, while she would correct them or take their ideas into consideration. It was a natural, organic structure of discussion and relaxation before the battle began. Technicians were more than busy, running about to and fro, carts of ammunition and parts necessary for preparing the unit for battle loaded up and en route to their respective mechs and armors. A fair number were busy loading the missile systems scattered about the equipment, from SRM to LRM units were being reloaded and stocked up to capacity, while men with boxes upon boxes of machinegun ammo, all linked together, were being fed into the units that carried such things. A lot of the units energy and flamer weapons were being checked and repaired, if needed, so they wouldn't fail in the heat of battle. It was, on a whole, a busy and competent team running around, working and preparing the machines of war that would lead the Capellen forces to victory. And they all believed it was not a matter of if, but when such a thing would happen.
Kashra slid down the ladder from her Warhammer's cockpit, landing with grace and jumping up on a supply crate, demanding the attention of her troops by presence alone, and the chatter and discussion halted, the only noise present was the maintenance and preparation work by the technicians, accompanied by their murmers back and forth to not potentially interrupt their CO. Kashra spoke easily, pride and experience in her tone of voice. "Alright ladies and gents, listen up. Green light from Sara, we'll be leading the assault for some extra pay. Now, Battle Armor, keep low, keep fast, and don't make a target out of yourself. No idea what kind of experience the mercenaries on the other side have, so they might have a particular hate, or fear, of your equipment. Hit hard, but don't be stupid. Mechs, don't sweat the small stuff, thats what the Battle Armor's for. I want you firing on enemy mechs, fire positions, anything high value that is really the glue holding the enemy lines together. Get into range, smash the hell out of them, and we can call it a day with extra pay in our pockets, and not too much in damage, sound good folks?" That got a cheer of confirmation from the unit, as they redoubled their previous efforts to prepare and discuss plans to get ready.
Kashra turned to face the city, already envisioning her Dark Talons in battle. Battle Armor was tearing ahead, Rottweilers leading the way while the Grenadiers and Salamanders followed, tearing up the enemy Battle Armor and tanks that were foolish enough to get caught out in the open, forcing the enemy armor back. Enemy mechs were burning in the field, slaughtered to the unit by her heavy assault lance, Helios and Dragons spitting fire and fury, missiles, lasers, and bullets tearing apart enemy forces. Flamers burning out unarmored infantry and overheating enemy units to make them easy prey. At the heart of all this was her Warhammer, marching forward, twin PPC's making short work of anything foolish enough to stand in her way while secondary lasers and machine guns chopped up lighter targets and infantry, breaking their backs on the iron of her men and women charging forward, opening the way for those that followed, but the salvage and glory would be theirs, first and foremost. Kashra could see all this already, staring down at the fortified city, and a smile grew on her face. Today would be a good day, after all.
"Ma'am, we have been planning this maneuver for some time, and I can assure you that they are not that well dug in that your last offer would be anything necessary. Half a million c-bills extra would suffice, which would be more than enough for the repairs without my employers required to put any additional payment towards the repair costs for your mercenary regiment." Sara knew that simply would not due, not in the slightest. A million minimum, and at least 10% repair costs was what she had in mind, and being lowballed like that was both unflattering and almost insulting. She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow as she mock considered his offer, and the man knew full well she wouldn't go that low, and was gauging her reaction which, credit to the Dark Talon administrator, didn't give anything useful away to the man's mental thought processes, and she replied with a counter offer to that. "Two million C-bills, and 30% on the repairs. We've been running this kind of firepower that you've never had experience with, we know precisely what we need to get the job done, and to break that hardened position wide open for you."
The Capellan retaliated with another offer, much closer to what Sara had been angling for as a compromise now. "1.5 Million c-bills, and and 15% of repair costs. Surely you would find that more reasonable than your last offer?" Sara sat there in actual contemplation, thinking on her low limit and the previous offers they had been trading back forth. She would take that, but she made one last effort at upping the repair costs that the Capellen boys would be taking off their hands. "Make that 20% of the repair costs, and you have a deal." The Capellen sat there, the chance to end these negotiations that had run for too long in his mind sitting right there, close to what he had offered, and finally submitted, nodding his consent and drawing up the paperwork. "Deal, an extra 1.5 million c-bills and coverage of 20% of the repair costs of the Dark Talons." Sara nodded, not betraying her pleasure with this deal, and went about getting the paperwork in order for the deal to be legally binding between the two organizations.
- --
The negotiations were not the only activity going on that concerned the Dark Talons. While they had been going on, Kashra had organized her troops within a patch of the forest overlooking the city and its defenses. The clearing had the mechs powered down, the only person still in their mech was Kashra herself sitting inside her Warhammer, though she was about to get out. The other mechs were powered down beside her, the two Dragons sitting to her left while the Helios was parked to her right. On the ground in front of them were the various battle armors in no particular order, the Grenadier and Salamander armor grouped together with the Rottweilers sitting in front of those four battle armor units. The pilots themselves were by their respective equipment, talking to each other. The two male pilots of the Grenadier units were talking with the women who piloted the Salamander's, while the sisters who piloted the Rottweiler battlearmor were discussing flanking maneuvers between the two of them, laughing at previous stories of them having shredded unsuspecting enemies that thought that only one Rottweiler had been discovered, the other sister coming out of the woodwork to bring them low with an unexpected assault.
The woman who piloted the Helios was discussing the assault ideas she had with the two Dragon pilot, the men respecting her ideas and offering alternatives and improvements to the overall ideas and theories she had, while she would correct them or take their ideas into consideration. It was a natural, organic structure of discussion and relaxation before the battle began. Technicians were more than busy, running about to and fro, carts of ammunition and parts necessary for preparing the unit for battle loaded up and en route to their respective mechs and armors. A fair number were busy loading the missile systems scattered about the equipment, from SRM to LRM units were being reloaded and stocked up to capacity, while men with boxes upon boxes of machinegun ammo, all linked together, were being fed into the units that carried such things. A lot of the units energy and flamer weapons were being checked and repaired, if needed, so they wouldn't fail in the heat of battle. It was, on a whole, a busy and competent team running around, working and preparing the machines of war that would lead the Capellen forces to victory. And they all believed it was not a matter of if, but when such a thing would happen.
Kashra slid down the ladder from her Warhammer's cockpit, landing with grace and jumping up on a supply crate, demanding the attention of her troops by presence alone, and the chatter and discussion halted, the only noise present was the maintenance and preparation work by the technicians, accompanied by their murmers back and forth to not potentially interrupt their CO. Kashra spoke easily, pride and experience in her tone of voice. "Alright ladies and gents, listen up. Green light from Sara, we'll be leading the assault for some extra pay. Now, Battle Armor, keep low, keep fast, and don't make a target out of yourself. No idea what kind of experience the mercenaries on the other side have, so they might have a particular hate, or fear, of your equipment. Hit hard, but don't be stupid. Mechs, don't sweat the small stuff, thats what the Battle Armor's for. I want you firing on enemy mechs, fire positions, anything high value that is really the glue holding the enemy lines together. Get into range, smash the hell out of them, and we can call it a day with extra pay in our pockets, and not too much in damage, sound good folks?" That got a cheer of confirmation from the unit, as they redoubled their previous efforts to prepare and discuss plans to get ready.
Kashra turned to face the city, already envisioning her Dark Talons in battle. Battle Armor was tearing ahead, Rottweilers leading the way while the Grenadiers and Salamanders followed, tearing up the enemy Battle Armor and tanks that were foolish enough to get caught out in the open, forcing the enemy armor back. Enemy mechs were burning in the field, slaughtered to the unit by her heavy assault lance, Helios and Dragons spitting fire and fury, missiles, lasers, and bullets tearing apart enemy forces. Flamers burning out unarmored infantry and overheating enemy units to make them easy prey. At the heart of all this was her Warhammer, marching forward, twin PPC's making short work of anything foolish enough to stand in her way while secondary lasers and machine guns chopped up lighter targets and infantry, breaking their backs on the iron of her men and women charging forward, opening the way for those that followed, but the salvage and glory would be theirs, first and foremost. Kashra could see all this already, staring down at the fortified city, and a smile grew on her face. Today would be a good day, after all.
I was wanting everyone to check in so I know who all is waiting who I need to PM to see if they're still interested etc. Cause I'm only seeing half the CSes of like the people who showed interest.
So far everyone is approved, and all garou slots have been claimed.
Name: Cecilia Torhild
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ahroun
Tribe: Black Spiral Dancer
Rank: 3rd Rank
Gifts: (3 gifts at rank 1, 5 at rank 2)
Rank 1:
+ Toxic Claws
+ Rat head
+ Sense Wyrm
+ Resist Pain
Rank 2:
+ Wyrm Hide
+ Sprint in Shadow
+ Ears of the bat
Rank 3:
+ Wind Claws
+ Blue Breath
Personality: Cecilia is a being of pure, unadulterated evil. Those that have crossed her path know full well the depths of cruelty and subsequent depravity that often follows such a mentality. Those that survive are often times considered less fortunate than those who have died, for she will continue to scar and haunt them for the rest of their days, her continues and ruthless nature in all things even extending to the nightmares and fears that are left behind after her encounters with those that displease her, or just simply are there and she happens to need to make an example of someone or something, because she can.
Such inspired cruelty and malice for those around her stems from homicidal, sociopath tendencies. More than willing to shift and slaughter, tearing apart entire crowds of enemies and bystanders, and even allies should they make the fatal mistake of ending up between her and whatever she has set her mind to slaughtering in the darkest, most disturbing way possible, Cecilia should not be trifled with, unless one enjoys angering a being that is cruel beyond belief, who's wickedness knows no bounds, is ruthless enough to put to shame any other being in the world of night, and more than ready to charge down the murder of someone or something with an almost unholy fervor.
Crue, wicked, ruthless, homicidal, sociopath
Biography: Madness, corruption, hate, despair. All negative emotions in the minds of many more normal, saner beings. But to the Black Spiral Dancers, mad Garou that have fallen under the sway of the Wyrm, such things are merely another days work. Such is the same for Cecilia Torhild, who has had the, depending on the outlook, fortune or misfortune of being born into such a wild, corrupt lifestyle. The parents in this case are meaningless, for such things would not define the woman. She was raised in the truest sense of a Black Spiral Dancer, in depraved, corrupt violence and scheming that would kill most, lesser beings.
Cecilia did not fail, did not falter, and as she grew into a young woman, relished in the hunt, especially after her first shift into a feral form. Cruel hatred filled her eyes that first night, and her masters knew they had a fine servant to the Wyrm before them. She took glee in kidnapping Garou of other tribes, subjecting them to abstract, unspeakable horrors and breaking them, watching them swear fealty to the Wyrm just to end the pain and suffering she would bring them. But the Garou were not her only targets. Kindred would find themselves at claw and tooth's edge against this vile being, all for her own goals and missions that brought her in conflict with many.
Her human form was deceptive, and allowed her far easier access to hidden secrets and forbidden objects that should be better guarded, but a pretty face and whispered word, no matter how dangerous or false, would get her far enough that tooth and claw would sustain her the rest of the way. She has grown into a powerful, dangerous, and demented member of the Black Spiral Dancers, capable of acts that the most heartless beings might consider too far, or too extreme. But in the end, it all matters not, for so long as she meets the goals and missions within her mind and the Black Spiral Dancers, it is a day well done.
Appearance:
Equipment: Harley Motorcyle, Sawed off double barreled shotgun, silver Morningstar, 18 pairs of garou ears on a necklace
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ahroun
Tribe: Black Spiral Dancer
Rank: 3rd Rank
Gifts: (3 gifts at rank 1, 5 at rank 2)
Rank 1:
+ Toxic Claws
+ Rat head
+ Sense Wyrm
+ Resist Pain
Rank 2:
+ Wyrm Hide
+ Sprint in Shadow
+ Ears of the bat
Rank 3:
+ Wind Claws
+ Blue Breath
Personality: Cecilia is a being of pure, unadulterated evil. Those that have crossed her path know full well the depths of cruelty and subsequent depravity that often follows such a mentality. Those that survive are often times considered less fortunate than those who have died, for she will continue to scar and haunt them for the rest of their days, her continues and ruthless nature in all things even extending to the nightmares and fears that are left behind after her encounters with those that displease her, or just simply are there and she happens to need to make an example of someone or something, because she can.
Such inspired cruelty and malice for those around her stems from homicidal, sociopath tendencies. More than willing to shift and slaughter, tearing apart entire crowds of enemies and bystanders, and even allies should they make the fatal mistake of ending up between her and whatever she has set her mind to slaughtering in the darkest, most disturbing way possible, Cecilia should not be trifled with, unless one enjoys angering a being that is cruel beyond belief, who's wickedness knows no bounds, is ruthless enough to put to shame any other being in the world of night, and more than ready to charge down the murder of someone or something with an almost unholy fervor.
Crue, wicked, ruthless, homicidal, sociopath
Biography: Madness, corruption, hate, despair. All negative emotions in the minds of many more normal, saner beings. But to the Black Spiral Dancers, mad Garou that have fallen under the sway of the Wyrm, such things are merely another days work. Such is the same for Cecilia Torhild, who has had the, depending on the outlook, fortune or misfortune of being born into such a wild, corrupt lifestyle. The parents in this case are meaningless, for such things would not define the woman. She was raised in the truest sense of a Black Spiral Dancer, in depraved, corrupt violence and scheming that would kill most, lesser beings.
Cecilia did not fail, did not falter, and as she grew into a young woman, relished in the hunt, especially after her first shift into a feral form. Cruel hatred filled her eyes that first night, and her masters knew they had a fine servant to the Wyrm before them. She took glee in kidnapping Garou of other tribes, subjecting them to abstract, unspeakable horrors and breaking them, watching them swear fealty to the Wyrm just to end the pain and suffering she would bring them. But the Garou were not her only targets. Kindred would find themselves at claw and tooth's edge against this vile being, all for her own goals and missions that brought her in conflict with many.
Her human form was deceptive, and allowed her far easier access to hidden secrets and forbidden objects that should be better guarded, but a pretty face and whispered word, no matter how dangerous or false, would get her far enough that tooth and claw would sustain her the rest of the way. She has grown into a powerful, dangerous, and demented member of the Black Spiral Dancers, capable of acts that the most heartless beings might consider too far, or too extreme. But in the end, it all matters not, for so long as she meets the goals and missions within her mind and the Black Spiral Dancers, it is a day well done.
Appearance:
Equipment: Harley Motorcyle, Sawed off double barreled shotgun, silver Morningstar, 18 pairs of garou ears on a necklace
All apps so far are approved
Name: Nora Myrna
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ahroun
Tribe: Fianna
Rank: 1
Gifts:
Master of Fire
Salmon Leap
Falling Touch
Personality: For one that resides within the Veil of the Garou, Nora is an odd one. She is highly musically inclined, fitting considering her tribe, the Fianna, are keepers of music and lore, while she remains an oddity amongst her peers, her quirky nature goes hand in hand with her musical inclination. Creativity spouts from her easily, even more so when she has her violin in hand, playing musical pieces learned and handed down to her from her tribe mates and peers in the fields of music.
Do not let this initial appearance fool you, however, for Nora is still a Homid of the Ahroun auspice, bloody warrior types born as humans. She is fierce in her way of life, from the pursuit of creativity and music, to the hunt against those that trespass against her and her kin, which demonstrates her loyalty, which can often prove nigh unshakeable when properly earned, all things that make a valuable ally to any who can prove themselves worthy of such a position in her mind.
But her enemies see only a roaring creature of vengeance and rage. Mercy does not exist for those that beckon the claws and teeth of this fierce being, such loyalty and ferocity turning into a brutal combination, determined to see it through for the sake of her kin, and the great ferocity turning a deadly assault even more feral and passionate. Creativity does not suit her foes after she has them trapped, making them sing tunes all their own.
Biography: Nora Myrna was born as normally as you would expect a Homid to be born. Her mother was human, her father Garou, and she was raised surpisingly well, considering how much flak and problems being born non human can cause for a family, let alone one with multiple members of the same tribe living together. But raised well she was, even plagued by dreams of wolves, of wild hunts against all sorts of things, some she didn't recognize, some she did, but under her father's careful tutilage, and her mother's care, she made it through her childhood with little incident or attention, dual blessings.
Puberty is a problem for many a person, but for a Garou of the Homid it was another matter entirely. They began to change forms during puberty, and a poorly guided one can end up dead rather easily. But, her father a blessing once more, kept her in line, showing her how to not only control her form, but take the advantages that being Homid had when in and out of her transformed states. Of course, she would move out on her own eventually, acting for the sake of the tribe, the same as her father's, the Fianna, and would often act in their favor, spreading tales of music and history to other tribes, while defending such lore against interlopers with vicious claw and tooth.
A notable achievement in her life was single handidly taking out a nest of Vampires. They had cornered her father, leaving him in bad shape when help arrived, and in a fit of rage Nora had pursued them. She would track them easily to their lair, a ruined mansion, stereotypically enough, and a priceless piece of Garuo music that had been put to paper before its owner died, so one might have use for it one day. But her fury consumed her, catching the nest utterly offguard, and slaughtered the bloodsuckers to the last undead, avenging the actions against her family and tribe in the ways of blood and talon.
The music she found was of interest amongst her peers, and Nora was granted leave to keep such music for future decryption, should she prove talented enough to do so. Whether she would, or not, her future history would decide. But for now, she would continue to act in the name of her Tribe, for her family, and for the Garuo that earned such loyalty. It would not be an easy life, but it never was for those of supernatural origins, and how they survived truly defined the being. And the being of Nora would prove hardy indeed, no doubt about that.
Appearance:
Equipment: Boarding Axe, .45 Magnum Revolver, Leather Jacket, 120 dollars, Brass Knuckles, Zippo Lighter, pack of menthols, Cellphone
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ahroun
Tribe: Fianna
Rank: 1
Gifts:
Master of Fire
Salmon Leap
Falling Touch
Personality: For one that resides within the Veil of the Garou, Nora is an odd one. She is highly musically inclined, fitting considering her tribe, the Fianna, are keepers of music and lore, while she remains an oddity amongst her peers, her quirky nature goes hand in hand with her musical inclination. Creativity spouts from her easily, even more so when she has her violin in hand, playing musical pieces learned and handed down to her from her tribe mates and peers in the fields of music.
Do not let this initial appearance fool you, however, for Nora is still a Homid of the Ahroun auspice, bloody warrior types born as humans. She is fierce in her way of life, from the pursuit of creativity and music, to the hunt against those that trespass against her and her kin, which demonstrates her loyalty, which can often prove nigh unshakeable when properly earned, all things that make a valuable ally to any who can prove themselves worthy of such a position in her mind.
But her enemies see only a roaring creature of vengeance and rage. Mercy does not exist for those that beckon the claws and teeth of this fierce being, such loyalty and ferocity turning into a brutal combination, determined to see it through for the sake of her kin, and the great ferocity turning a deadly assault even more feral and passionate. Creativity does not suit her foes after she has them trapped, making them sing tunes all their own.
Biography: Nora Myrna was born as normally as you would expect a Homid to be born. Her mother was human, her father Garou, and she was raised surpisingly well, considering how much flak and problems being born non human can cause for a family, let alone one with multiple members of the same tribe living together. But raised well she was, even plagued by dreams of wolves, of wild hunts against all sorts of things, some she didn't recognize, some she did, but under her father's careful tutilage, and her mother's care, she made it through her childhood with little incident or attention, dual blessings.
Puberty is a problem for many a person, but for a Garou of the Homid it was another matter entirely. They began to change forms during puberty, and a poorly guided one can end up dead rather easily. But, her father a blessing once more, kept her in line, showing her how to not only control her form, but take the advantages that being Homid had when in and out of her transformed states. Of course, she would move out on her own eventually, acting for the sake of the tribe, the same as her father's, the Fianna, and would often act in their favor, spreading tales of music and history to other tribes, while defending such lore against interlopers with vicious claw and tooth.
A notable achievement in her life was single handidly taking out a nest of Vampires. They had cornered her father, leaving him in bad shape when help arrived, and in a fit of rage Nora had pursued them. She would track them easily to their lair, a ruined mansion, stereotypically enough, and a priceless piece of Garuo music that had been put to paper before its owner died, so one might have use for it one day. But her fury consumed her, catching the nest utterly offguard, and slaughtered the bloodsuckers to the last undead, avenging the actions against her family and tribe in the ways of blood and talon.
The music she found was of interest amongst her peers, and Nora was granted leave to keep such music for future decryption, should she prove talented enough to do so. Whether she would, or not, her future history would decide. But for now, she would continue to act in the name of her Tribe, for her family, and for the Garuo that earned such loyalty. It would not be an easy life, but it never was for those of supernatural origins, and how they survived truly defined the being. And the being of Nora would prove hardy indeed, no doubt about that.
Appearance:
Equipment: Boarding Axe, .45 Magnum Revolver, Leather Jacket, 120 dollars, Brass Knuckles, Zippo Lighter, pack of menthols, Cellphone
OOC is up OOC Let's see some CSes
“The night was calm, the moon full overhead, just starting its slow ascent into the sky, announcing that the dominion of the walkers of night had begun once more. The Night brought out the best, and worst, of all sorts that could be found, from the Vampire clans and their ilk, Kindred that forwarded their own agenda's, as well as those of their Clans, and one such being was out that night. He was a member of the Camarilla, stewards of the Masquerade and a sort of balancing, status quo between the Clans and preventing the increasing population of humans to realize their existence and drown them in a tide of hunters and manpower. Others did not agree with their goals, but they had tools and political power enough to make their goals the goals of many of the Kindred.
Said Vampire held a role of importance, a Sheriff of the Camarilla, an enforcer of the laws and traditions of their sovereign prince. This one was of the Brujah clan, powerful warriors in their own right, and this was without the inevitable power that one of the Sheriff role would no doubt hold. His name was Karl Shore, and he was not happy, an understatement if one had ever been said. A harsh scowl permeated his face, hard, solid jaw making this all the more intimidating and clear to those that passed him by. Most wouldn't have trouble justifying placing his home, or his bloodline's home, somewhere in the German lands, though mortals wouldn't dare dream of how old this one actually was. Of average height he was, with brown hair swept back into a pony tail that ran down his back, keen, almost hungry, and certainly predatory blue eyes gleamed out at the night, taking everything in, in a way that mortals couldn't. He was on a mission, a job from his Prince, and he would see it done.
The building he had arrived at was ruined, at least to his eyes. Others assumed it was just abandoned, and as the Sheriff entered, they wouldn't appear to be wrong. But the dark hallways gave way to the scent of death, of blood and instinctual terror. There was blood splattered across the ruined halls, clear evidence of fighting and struggling, the symbols of a very clear opponent to the Camarilla. The Sabbat, those that believed themselves the sword of Caine himself, and would sweep the world clean when the time came. Fools that they were, outcasts and renegades often found membership in their ranks, and that made them dangerous, as such creatures often found themselves talented and without fear of punishment from their former watchmasters, the Camarilla. But the thoughts of the Sheriff were interrupted, as a scream from deeper within, past the bodies that he had started to find, suffering clear injuries from many forms of armed combat.
But this was only side information in the Sheriff Shore's head as he walked into a room, the originating point of the scream, and only a dust pile remained. He kicked it, scattering the dust, finding it was unusually fresh, when a sound made him turn, straight into a blast of twelve gauge buckshot. The creature with shotgun scowled from the doorway, having expected easy prey, but Karl Shore was no easy prey. With a snarl of his own, paired hatchets came from his belt, no fear of breaking the masquerade here, and both flying hatchets struck home, throwing the offending creature to the ground with a gurgling noise. The gut wound from the shotgun wasn't pretty, even for a being of his capability and prowess, but it lacked any specialty or potency to cause long term difficulties. The vampire that had inflicted the wound, and was now down on the ground with a hatchet in his throat and stomach was clearly a shovelhead, petty footsoldier of the Sabbat, literally beaten over the head and kicked off into fighting. No real match for a Brujah like himself, and a Sheriff at that.
Karl approached the wounded vampire, hand wrapping around the hatchet buried in the vampires neck, and glared deep into the beings eyes. It started laughing, pointing out behind the Sheriff. Despite himself, he turned, hatchet in hand, staring dead into a sight he did not want to see, ever. It was a werewolf, and while that was bad enough, something made it worse. It stood in its Crinos form, the feral war form of the Garou, and he barely had time to open his mouth, to let fly a scream of fear, or of rage, or of something else entirely, but such things as these are not nearly as uncommon as one would think. For this is a World of Darkness, maintained behind the Masquerade of the Vampires and the Veil of the Garou, but such things are fragile, and all it could take, is a nudge, to send it all spiraling down into bedlam and chaos, a helter skelter, as it was once called.”
Welcome to the world of darkness, where the dark of night is filled with creatures of your worst fears. Boston has always been a city that harbors in it’s shadows the dregs of society, but it also holds the secrets of a long held masquerade. A Prince with great ambition resides here upsetting the balance of the world around him, his own followers seem to be disconcerted with his actions and his greed. The wolves in the hills of New Hampshire grow restless with each night that passes as their lands grow smaller and smaller by the day.
This will be a rp based off the World of Darkness by whitewolf. I realize that there are a lot of different races and classes to choose from, but with so much variety everything would get so muddled the plot would disappear. So I’m sticking with the most well known factions. Kindred (Vampires), Hunters (Humans), and Garou (Werewolves) will be the three playable races, I’m sorry to those who love mages or changelings, but I feel like that would just be throwing to much in the mix.
To give a little insight to what’s going on with the RP the Garou have reactivated a Caern in the New Hampshire forests and vampire territory has encroached upon it enraging them, Anarchs have grown displeased with the current Prince of Boston, Sabbat have struck out in the city against everyone in a crusade, The Prince in his greed filled lust has begun stepping on everyone’s toes not caring about guidelines that are in place, and Hunters have come to Boston with all the red flags that have gone up and are hunting down the Prince.
The typical rules apply to this RP, don’t make yourself overpowered, don’t god mod, be respectful etc etc. This is a advanced RP so I expect everyone to have the common sense to know what is expected of them.
HUNTERS!
(I’m adding in Hunters again because of the interest I have received in them. Now I’m posting a link to the Society of Leopold as a idea of what you can work with. You do not have to be part of the Society of Leopold, but I’d highly suggest at least working with the hunters that are. A lone hunter usually doesn’t last long among vampires and garou, especially on this scale.)
Helpful Character Creation Info
Vampire Clans
Tribes
Garou
Auspice
Breed
Gifts
Clans Disciplines
Hunters Society of Leopold
Limit of 5
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