Noxious

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

When's the next post?

@Irisity

I've already started working on it. Shooting for Tuesday, possibly Wednesday. The next post is going to be tricky. I want to make sure I word the "why we are here" speech correctly. If I decide to break up the speech into 2 parts to let people react, it will be sooner.

I've had to help my friend in trouble for the last 24 hours. Now that the emergency is over (and receiving some IC information), I'm putting a post up. Apologies for delay I've made.

@Habibi359

You're good. :)

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

@Noxious I'm only three days away, so close damnit

@Irisity

At least you didn't miss it! That would be a travesty. We can have cake again in three days! :)

On an RP note: I'm actually almost done with the Barons. I feel a little silly because I realize they aren't very relevant yet, and may not have any real relevance for a long time. You'll all be able to pick your district though and they should give you a bit of background about what each district is about. Keep in mind that even if a Baron has an ability similar to yours you aren't required to be in that district. Barons and sires often trade progeny to suit their needs. My hope is to have them all up and posted by the end of the weekend at the latest. It might be today if work is slow enough.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Happy 666 days online since guildfall to some of you! We shall all eat cake.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Guys, guys...

You are awesome. Posts are excellent, characters gained some dimension.

YESSSSSS

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Oh,hell. I will repost once i get home .

@idlehands

Hahaha. HeySeuss was awesome and deleted the post, but I almost didn't notice because it says 3 like Irisity said.

ςнαяαςтєяş × яøℓєρℓαчş

Fiona

...
I may not ever break these chains, but
I will use them to hang my masters.
...

Name/Alias: Fiona Engel / Fe, Fio

Age: 21 / 62

Description:
[:] Height: 5'7" (1.73 m) / Weight: 119 lbs. (54 kgs.)
[:] Pale hair, pale skin, pale eyes, dead eyes;
[:] Hunched shoulders with a wicked eyebrow, cruel heart;
[:] Topped with a "you want to fucking go?" grin.

Skills:*
[:] Feed on Fear - Gains physical strength when those in proximity are afraid.
[:] Become Fear - Jaw dislocates and extends; teeth exaggerate into a vicious jawline, fingers become like spider legs with a claw at the tip. The more fear, the more gruesome.

Weaknesses:
[:] When those around her have fear it can force a transformation.
[:] Can only feed off people who are in a fear induced state, not the willing, her bite is painful.
[:] Thralls obey more out of fear than loyalty, which leaves them susceptible to temptation.

Motivations:

She had been through more tortures than most could imagine. They told her she needed to be able to imagine them; it was part of her "birthright". They told her she needed to be able to call upon them. But she hated them, hated her birthright, hated her tormentors. She wanted to destroy them. She didn't care if it destroyed who she was, because she wasn't really sure who that person was anyways, not anymore. Now all she can remember is hatred and terror.

To become a butterfly, a caterpillar first digests itself.

History

Fiona Engel was born on a dreary early March day in 1957. Her father was an uninteresting alcoholic who overworked at the Shipyard. Her mother was a quiet defeated woman, struggling to maintain an overcrowded and underfunded household. She was one of 5 children, stuck in the middle. There was nothing exceptional about her childhood. There was nothing exceptional about her family. She wasn’t beaten, starved or molested.

It is the lack of exceptional that hones certain people to seek it out later in life, or she was just bored.

Fio occasionally wandered when they started watching her. Where they the monster under her bed when she was five? Maybe they were the whispers she heard from the bushes when she snuck out with her brothers? Did they see them that night; when the three youths lost their innocence in a fit of rage taken out on a old man who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? Did they watch her wash her hands, over and over, unable to lock eyes with the twelve year old in the mirror? Could they smell the blood like she could when she went to curl up in bed and flenched at her own palms? If they were there then, then they saw as she stopped trying to wash the blood out. They would have taken notice that she no longer flinched away from the smell, but nuzzled into her palms.

They say some sadists are just born, but she was just a little girl playing at a game she didn’t understand.

By the time she was a teenager she could barely stand to go home to her cramped house. School was unfulfilling and by thirteen she had dropped out. Her disconnection with people grew. She started to have a difficult time sleeping; which only drove her further into her own mind. Reality was a myth. Pain was real. She started to go to underground clubs. At first it was the wild music, then it was the drugs, soon it was petty crimes of assault. She would tell herself she was doing it for the money, but there was enjoyment from flesh hitting flesh that she couldn’t get from a needle.

She really just wanted to feel something again; like that first time.

She quit using drugs rather easily at the age of seventeen and began to focus her energy on fighting. She had no problem enticing her brothers into a fray, but her viciousness was starting to worry them. She would go to the underground clubs and start fights with intoxicated patrons. It was here that a man turned her on to an girl on girl boxing group; turns out there was a niche market with the kink for watching bruises and blood appear on a cute feisty thing like herself.

It was never about winning, but it was even less about the money.

She wasn’t overly muscular, she wasn’t that strong, but she’d become brutal and relentless. The girl could take a punch. The fighting didn’t help with the sleep though, there was still whispering following her about at night; and now there were demons darting about in her side view. She started turning to the bottle, the only thing that quieted the world. She needed to get some sleep. Even half drunk the memories of that night are solidified in her mind. It wasn’t rare that one of the John’s would approach her after a fight. Some wanted to talk, some wanted to touch, and some even wanted to save her. This specific person struck her immediately as odd. It wasn’t just the fact that they didn’t seem to meet any of the normal categories; it was that it was a well dressed woman.

The woman offered to buy Fio a drink. Fiona rolled the ice cubes around in the empty tumbler, staring at her bruised and bleeding knuckles, and shrugged. The woman sat down next to her and ordered a drink; none for herself. She explained that there was another place where people fought. The rules weren’t as strict. In fact, there were no rules, and Fiona was just the girl they were looking for. If she was simply catering to Fiona’s pride she would have failed; she had no pride, but the lack of rules got an eyebrow raise from Fio. She was intrigued. The woman’s smile curled into something pleased and cruel and Fiona should have ran then, though now she knows it wouldn’t have helped.

She slept good the night before her first visit to James Island. It would be the first and last good night’s sleep she would ever have.

Arriving at James Island was something surreal. The property seemed completely empty, save for a couple of cars that denoted no specific economic position. She looked down at the address the woman had given her. The woman’s face flashed in her mind again and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself despite the lack of cold. As if she had conjured the woman with her thoughts she was there, slipping an arm in Fiona’s and smiling that same smile. Fiona flinched, but the will to pull away was stifled somehow. “Are you nervous Fiona?”

She was a little nervous. She shook her head no. Once they got inside the whole atmosphere changed. She could hear booming yells, shouting and something animalistic. The woman led her to a room where she could get ready. “Someone will come get you when it’s time.” Fio fell into her routine and it relaxed her. She pulled her blonde hair back into a tight bun and began wrapping her hands with tape. She stretched and cracked her body and closed her eyes to center herself.

Pain affirms life; Pain gives life; Life is pain; the mantra repeated until she heard the door open.

In front of her was a sad looking man, hunched in the doorway. He reminded her of a beaten puppy, the way he wouldn’t make eye contact, the way he flinched as she stepped towards his beckoning hand. She followed him down a hall. He didn’t say anything the whole walk, but she swore she heard a mumbled apology as she stepped through the doorway. It closed before she could question him and her attention moved towards the murmuring of a crowd. It seemed smaller than the crowd she’d heard earlier. She could only pick out a handful of individuals in raised seating surrounding the “ring”. The actual ring was stone walls, and as she looked about she felt fear, real fear, possibly for the first time in her life. It wasn’t the blood pooling off the walls, it wasn’t even the stench of death, but the flecks of bone...and….were those pieces of scalp? Was it fur?

Sometimes you follow pain down the rabbit hole and stumble upon the beast.

The woman she had met at the bar stood across from her with that same creepy fucking smile. Fiona still hated that fucking smile. “Are you ready Fiona?” The woman cracked her neck and sniffed the air; creepy bitch. (In retrospect the woman was feeding off her fear, bristling with it, enjoying the rush.) Fiona put her hands up and felt the woman’s fist abolish her cheek bone before she even had a second to block. She tried to shake off the blur, lunged at the woman, who easily dodged and pushed her to the ground. She stood back up. There was no noise. They were just watching. She shouldn’t be here.

There are no rules; there was only getting out.

She lunged at the woman again, this time grabbing and gripping a handful of hair. There was something wrong. The woman twisted her face to Fiona’s and she could see the gaping grin. She felt some oppressive force grip her already terrified mind. “You’ll need to bite me to survive this little one,” she wasn’t sure if the woman had spoken, the gaping mouth barely seemed to move, yet to ripple all at the same time. She wrenched the woman’s hair, pulling her cavernous mouth away and bit down on the woman’s neck as hard as she could. It was sickening, the way it felt with pliable skin and shooting cold blood filling her mouth, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to kill this woman.

She wished she blacked out then. She would never get the joy of blacking out into peace ever again. There would never be peace. Jezebel Holt, her Sire, dove her own teeth into Fiona’s neck and pain became her life, her existence. It was the beginning of an endless tide of pain and fear and nothingness.

She was forced to fight her demons, other demons, physically and in her mind. They kept talking about butterflies and deconstructing the caterpillar. They locked her in a cellar and ripped off her limbs and threw her siblings in the room. They cried over her, petting her head, trying to comfort her, and then their fear….the smell. She devoured them all. They broke countless bones, took out their own sadistic fantasies on her. She saw things that devoured every bit of fear she had to give them, until she was no longer afraid, and then they let her out.

When she isn’t rented out, she stays with Jezebel. Her own sick pleasures began to develop. She told herself it was their influence, but Jezebel would smile down at her and she knew that there was always something there, something that brought Jezebel calling. She hated that creepy fucking grin so much. The Blood Sports became her release. She walked into the ring and breathed in the fear and convinced herself she was alive.

Connections:
[:] Baron of James Island: Orthrus - They aren't friends. They've met a few times.
[:] Sire: Jezebel Holt - Bitch of the Blood Sports, has a predilection for feisty girls.
[:] Current Thrall: Calorian - bartender at The Yowling Hide
[:] Willing to discuss connections. :)

*(Baron develops higher ability and can physically touch someone and know their fear. They can transform into their fear and sustain themselves for short amounts of time supplementing fear for blood.)

THE BARONS

5 City District Barons

The French Quarter

Armand Marill-Valentino
"The Gentleman"

[+]

Baron of the French Quarters, The Baron comes from Italian and French heritage and was prolific as a behind the curtains bank roller for various Sicilian crews in the city during the prohibition. He is however older then that and has been around in town for as long as the current Monarch, serving as a general of sort during the conflict. He will, upon it striking his fancy, regale his court about stories from the French Revolution. If these are really true is yet to be determined. Not that anyone would openly doubt him.

Of the same bloodline as Lyra and her Sire, his incredible ease in maintaining Thralls has made him a massive power player. Having been one of the Barons appointed by the monarch, the "Gentleman" enjoys a iron grip on his domain. He rule by deceit and manipulation, like any good manipulator and With his Madame Blanche and others by his side, he has means to both find you and compel you to do as he please.

He is however, a very hands off person. If business is smooth, and upstarts know their place he see no big reason for kicking the nest. He knows he can very well kill anyone that gets on his radar either way.

South of Broad

Ealdgyth the Exiled
"Lady Edith"

[+]

South of Broad is the Charleston’s thriving Arts District. The area caters to a multitude of arts and patrons. There are wealthy galleries sporting decor and pieces that range from modern to classical. There is a smaller area with more eclectic styles catering to a younger hip crowd. The Dock Street Theater was converted into the building that stands today around 1935 and is used for a multitude of arts, from concerts to ballet. The operators of the majority of businesses are either vampire or associated with them (even if they are unaware).

Ealdgyth is the Baroness of this district and for good reason. She has nurtured and developed it into the thriving hub that it is today. She is an aristocrat by both birth and nature; early European. Her appearance remains classical, exuding both youthfulness and control. She is soft spoken, always choosing her words carefully and is generally viewed as polite. Her own art collection and influence on the art community may have started as a pebble in the water, but the ripples have touched across continents.

Her abilities, like her children, include a radiating presence. This may have something to do with her quiet and coy nature. She’s never had to assault a room to be known, but rather it just happens naturally. This does not always result in positive emotions. Strong willed are usually bristled by this ability and sense something is a bit off. No bother, she is good at soothing any differences that arise. While her kind have the ability to nurture and follow many paths for abilities she has focused heavily on art. She has the ability to feel the emotions of artists and their intent when viewing art pieces, but also has the same pesky issue of becoming enthralled herself to certain pieces. It is said that for a solid year in the 1940’s all she could do was dwell on an obscure piece until the Monarch came and removed the temptation, placing it in an unknown storage.

The Business District

Eriko Nishimura & Jean Bontemps
"The Pirates"

[+]

[+]

Eriko Nishimura is the rightful Baroness of the Business District. Her small stature and femininity has suited her well, ensuring she is always underestimated. It also created barriers in business and early on she saw a need for a partner she could trust and who would be trusted by the white male upper-class. Thus her other half was born.

Her first child, Jean Bontemps, the perfect right hand; practically a mirror image of her views, goals and personality. It is exceedingly rare to see them apart. Prior to their death both were involved in piracy, strong leaders, and shrewd negotiators. They moved to Charleston from New Orleans around a century ago, replacing the previous Baron through negotiations, not war.

Some of the more approachable of the Barons; they lack the air of regality that some of the others don like a dracula cape. They prefer to drink in the company of others and can be rather good story tellers. It should not be forgotten that they are always searching for a way to gain power. They are extremely focused, tactful and goal driven. They both have a high stress tolerance, lack remorse and are ruthless, egocentric, charming and manipulative. When it comes to vampires living in their district they strictly gauge acceptance and respect for others based on their usefulness.

Their exact power is unknown, but they seem to be extremely lucky in business and in undeath.

Harleston Village

Marreck Osei
"Watchdog"

[+]

His ability is well known, though the true expanse of his power is hard to gauge. With physical contact he can remove the abilities of other vampires, or he can enhance them. On humans the power manifests as something that can drain a human of all energy to the degree of coma or he can energize them like a shot of adrenaline. His power is extremely demanding on the human body. For this reason many of the vampires in his employ are not his own progeny and are instead involved in a blood pact. They are hand chosen for their skills which vary almost as much as the Monarch collection.

If anyone has their finger on the pulse of Charleston, it's this man. He came with the Monarch to Charleston and has served him longer than any of the other Barons. He worked for awhile as a go to between all of the Barons until juggling the politics of the human and vampire world became to much for him. Instead of letting him retire, the Monarch gave him a Baronship and continues to rely heavily on his skills and monitoring. He is, debatably, the Monarchs closest confidant. Many believe that the Monarch may be his sire.

His blood pact force have taken over most of the day to day operations, infiltrating almost every level of the human justice system. Deputy Chief Simon Fuller is one of a handful that he trusts. Many use thralls for day time information collecting but also hold positions with access to information for themselves. The Baron himself has no human recognized position, but busies himself making sense of the large amount of both pertinent and useless information that crosses his desk.

While many of the Barons have their own cleaners, those who need something swept under the rug without any complications will get in touch with Marreck or one of his children. They do an exceptional job keeping the vampire world separate from the human.

The Burroughs

Daciana Vãduva
"Lady Umbra"

[+]

What do you want? Girls? Boys? Stolen Art? Weapons? Ancient tomes? Underhanded or discreet services? You can find all of this and more, if you know where to look in The Burroughs. The lovely and ever gracious Baroness of this district has fundamental rules for her children, and any currently in her district. Do not steal within the district without consent. Do not kill in the district without consent. Do not bring attention from the human population, ever. And that's it. Follow the rules, and your stay will be enjoyable. Break the rules and you wont make it out of the Burroughs with your undead life.

Of the Barons, her origin story is one of the most cliché. Born in Transylvania at the edge of the Carpathian Mountains, the youth of her undeath was entirely opposed to the life she lives now. There were no rulers beyond her sire, but there was a true and haunting fear of discovery from the human populace. She has a subdued, but very real fear of humanity and has human dealings as little as possible, if at all.

Her most often discussed ability is the manipulation of shadows. She can fuse them about herself to the extent she can survive briefly beneath the sun. She can access areas in the shadows unknown to most, both for storage and camouflage. She can almost entirely become the shadows themselves when there is a lack of light. The lesser discussed perk of her genetic line is the ability to hibernate. It requires them to be buried in the dirt of their homeland and there they will fall into a dreamless sleep until they are awoken. It was probably Daciana who buried her sire and left him. If he is ever unearthed it would not bode well for her or any of her ilk.

8 Outer Barons

James Island & Folly Beach

Orthrus
"The Boogeyman"

[+]

Orthrus came to Charleston from New Orleans where the terrors he inflicted upon human and vampire slaves is still a whispered travesty. He started the blood sports early in Charleston's conception to feed his own joy and taste for violence and brutality. He is a true showboater; loves attention, be it good or bad. He enjoys holding extravagant parties where you will find humans bleeding out from hooks and chains decorating the walls. He can be absolutely charming, as long as you aren't afraid. The problem is, he knows what you are afraid of. He knows how to become the boogeyman crawling out of your mind and across the ceiling.

Torture is possibly his greatest joy and he loves pressing the limits of absolute terror. It's bred into him, he grows strong in its presence and it is just as addictive as any drug. Thanks to this he trains his line in all forms of terror, removing it from them so that all is left is a shell. The caterpillar eating itself to become the butterfly. This shell has little option but to fill it's being with the terrible addiction and anger. Most of his ilk are viewed as deranged serial killers and blood hungry thugs (though aren't most vampires?).

Even at his age his thralls can not help but fear him so they often prickle the vampires instinct to kill. His age has made him terrifying enough to instill loyalty when it comes to betrayal, yet he still feels human are an animal to be hunted. Due to this he is completely untrusting/uncaring of thralls and has been known to enslave or slaughter the thralls sent unaccompanied into his district.

Johns Island

Lyssa Uranina
"Mania"

[+]

Some say she talks to the dead; some say she can hear the inner most thoughts of those around her or those she has killed; and some, some say she is just insane. One may never know because you surely can't believe the stories she tells. Whatever the cause of the insanity, it doesn't matter, because it's real and it's contagious. She can infect the minds of others. She has had centuries to learn how to handle it, but when she reaches out for you what preparation have you had to contest the tentacle grip of an absurd reality wrapping about your mind and senses? Progeny are usually chosen from already insane mentalities because of their ability to handle the bite. It is documented that occasionally the transformation isn't survivable. It is thought that a mind too rational can't handle it. You will find a higher number of youthful cleaners from this line.

To define her or her morals is a completely impossible task. She keeps a sort of childlike glee about life, terrible and good. She is a bubbly flighty thing, speaking in exaggerated hand gestures of long dead philosophies while gingerly nibbling on the finger of a prepubescent child. She likes to giggle and flirt, batting lashes over brilliant dead eyes, playing the part of extended youth dripping with distracting but delightful insanity. Then the facade would crumble and the vicious untrusting monster would whisper the contained madness of her mind, directly assaulting any rational foothold one possesses. Though most with a rational foothold didn’t care to find themselves in her presence. Even with her flaws, she is debatably the most caring and loving of the progeny she creates and those she takes in. She believes in family; albeit sick and twisted, but family.

The Baroness helped fund the human endeavor to build a large psychiatric institution on the island. Other than that the island is rather devoid of activity. It is surrounded almost entirely by the ocean and an expanse of bayou wilderness. She was chosen for her ability to protect a large portion of the outer border, though illegals in the city have been light in the past couple of decades. She should not be underestimated.

West Ashley

Berrak Kokinos
"The Oracle"

[+]

The Oracle’s abilities are pretty self explanatory. She doesn’t have the ability to force visions about specific events easily; it requires extreme focus. Normally she just picks up tidbits that relevance wavers from what her neighbor will have for breakfast to outcomes in war. The vampire community seems torn when asked about the truth of her visions; some claiming her ability is more about current perception than fortune telling. That said, she is still taken seriously; if she speaks, people listen. She very rarely speaks and is viewed as withdrawn and quiet. She attempts to never involve herself in vampire politics and has proctors that control the day to day politics of West Ashley for her.

She seems to be one of the most unwilling Barons; claiming it’s irrelevant and tedious. Her ilk are rarely considered for positions of power because they generally lack the means to protect themselves. It is common for them to sell their services for the protection of stronger barons, but Berrak has gained enough favor and protection to hold her own in the political world.

On a whole the line produces kind and gentle vampires, if not a bit flighty and delusional, which is reflected in their low numbers. They trade out their progeny for muscle and other helpful skills. They generally find killing, through feeding or sport, extremely distasteful. She chooses intelligent thralls, usually philosopher types, that she builds strong relationships with. She prefers the company of her thralls and humans much more than most vampires. This should not lead you to believe she is weak or feeble minded. She predicted the rise of the Monarch and has gained many unanswered favors from a plethora of vampires over the years.

North Charleston

Ánhaga
"The Recluse"

[+]

It is difficult to see the human he once was through his current form, but whatever race he came from they bred them tall. He stands at an imposing 7 feet, but can maneuver through under ground tunnels and sewers as easily as the rodents he occasionally dines upon. If the Lady Umbra has a cliché history, then Ánhaga has the most dramatized façade. Nosferatu often comes to mind, and to be honest the Baron delights in the bit of fame that shines on his otherwise hidden existence.

The other Barons are weary of him, not only because of his appearance, but for his ability and his seemingly unlimited knowledge about what goes on beneath the lights of the city. He craves company and has been known to hold younger vampires for lengthy period of time; bordering on kidnapping, but it is usually overlooked as one of eccentricities. Vampires will offer their children in return for some of the secrets he keeps and to stay in good favor. Should he ever decide against your favor it would be advised to stay away from alleys, sewers, darkness....well, you should probably just pack your bags and run.

His nature forced solitude has provide him with plenty of time to hone and manipulate his own abilities. The blood filter present in his children has been shaped into a rather unique ability. The Baron can hold diseases in the memory of his blood and inflict them upon vampires and humans. "Blood Rot" is his most common infliction against vampire foes and it is a slow and excruciating death. The vampire will feel sick, like a human with a cold. Soon it escalates to a gnawing within them. The pain flares; the vampire feeling the rot eating at their brain, some have said you can hear it whispering your own death as it rips apart your being. When the pain is so much that most vampires would choose death, it is to late for release. The disease has devoured the weaknesses of vampires and there is no release. Burning the infected vampire to ash seems to be the only remedy and is often carried out by their sires for fear the Blood Rot will spread. He studies the diseases he holds on the vampires given to him, always seeking a way to reverse his kinds deformity or to expel the inherent vampire weaknesses; though as of yet he has failed.

It is his ability that is rumored, and truly must be, the catalyst in the transformations of this kind, though the effects vary depending on the vampire. It appears that the more they succumb to their ability and tainted blood the more deformed they become.

From North Charleston the vampires have access to a plethora of sewer lines and underground tunnels that lead throughout the territories. While the tunnels below each district do technically belong to the Baron above, it is commonly understood that The Recluse holds right of way.

Daniel Island

Faol Wulver
"The Beast"

[+]

Faol tends to keep to himself, which doesn’t help the rumors that his beastlike appearance is indicative of a primal personality. Those who count him as a friend argue that the rumors are wildly exaggerated and that he is actually quite pleasant, considering. His line’s transformation forces the beastlike appearance and gives the vampires much higher physical attributes than the other vampire lines. Due to his inability to regain full human appearance it is argued that his line is one of the original relating to animal kinship. Younger vampires in his line are usually more primal and this is something they either embrace or, like himself, compartmentalize as a piece of them that does not define the whole.

Those under his rule have always maintained a pack like mentality; with a strict hierarchy in play, but they also genuinely support one another. He has close relationships with many in his district and allows access to his company by appointment instead of stealing away. He personally deals with all issues and squabbles in his district. While he isn’t cruel, he does not gauge his acceptance of others on their own alignment. He’s accepting of the monster that vampirism creates and chooses not to judge.

Mount Pleasant

Lenore Nevermore
"Raven"

[+]

Her specific line has the ability to control scavengers and other smaller creatures. From the youth of her undeath she has nurtured a relationship with ravens. She uses the ravens, feeding them her blood, so that she can keep an eye on the city. This gives her the unique position of having a plethora of eyes out during the day, a built in spy ring with no question of loyalty. She hand selects competent thralls and human consorts, oblivious to her nature, to control her shipping enterprise and day to day operations. Mount Pleasant is a wealthy district and almost all shipments requiring discretion due to vampiric or supernatural value go through her.

There is a strong claim the baroness can transform into an unkindness of ravens; some have even claimed to see it. The claim, while terrifying, is not completely unreasonable. Lenore has maintained control of the Mount Pleasant Baronship since the Monarch took control of Charleston and she was one of the strong contenders for the Monarch position herself.

Her outward demeanor is quiet and watchful, which often leads people to believe she is pretentious. She does nothing to dispel this belief, nurturing any rumor that distracts from her true calculating nature. She can be both cruel and conniving, if necessary, and is said to hold a grudge almost as well as the Monarch himself. Other Barons pay her the respect she has earned and do all that they can to stay off her radar.

Cainhoy Peninsula

Maike Fockesz
"The Frisian"

[+]

The Cainhoy Peninsula is not a welcoming place. Legends and horror stories surround the district so that most humans know to stay out of the woods at night, and most just avoid the area all together. The skeptics blame animals for the disappearances, claiming a black bears, gators or bobcats are at fault. It isn’t the wildlife, but rather the Frisian, Baroness of the district, that allows for unabashed hunting, as long as the dead are buried in her district. She holds an annual hunt in her district where a select few receive an invitation. It is a hedonistic event, catering to the animalistic need suppressed by many Barons. While most vampires have acclimated along with the humans, she seems to create and thrive in a world entirely separate. She can not create thralls of the living so has no real purpose to associate with them and her humanity and empathy has suffered. Most barons are either for or against humans, but the Frisian truly sees them as game as nothing more.

The dead being buried on her land serves more than just the purpose of hunting and disposing. Her ability, summoning the dead, benefits greatly from fresh bodies awaiting reanimation. There are restrictions on her abilities and the dead she can resurrect, though no one other than her kin are quite sure of the “rules”. Her ability crosses into the vampire world of dead by allowing her to summon other vampires, though she can not force or control them like she can her zombies. She comes from one of the oldest known vampire lines; her sire is an exceedingly powerful and influential force in Europe. They rarely create progeny due to the implications of their abilities and the lack of control there is in youth. To create a progeny they must set aside a large amount of time to dwell in an unpopulated area.

Summerville

Ethelred
"Mr. Red"

[+]

Very little is known about the Baron of Summerville. The vampires that reside under his rule are an eclectic bunch as he is not opposed to taking in strays. This adds to the rumors that the Baron is extremely powerful because of the obvious dangers inherent in taking in unaligned. One rumored power is the control of memories, more importantly, the ability to remove them. Politically they have remained neutral and relatively quiet. Those who have met the Baron claim their mind feels weaker in his presence, though this may be psychological due to the rumors surrounding him.

Sullivans Island

Sullivan’s Island is a North Eastern small Island on the edge of the territories. On the island there is an underground meeting hall. It is used as a diplomatic ground and has strict laws regarding any malicious acts towards vampires or humans by decree of the Monarch, Pylos. Beneath the meeting hall is a sealed chamber containing enemies/defectors of the Monarch that were imprisoned in stone instead of dispatched entirely. No one is sure of where the Monarch is located at any given time; this is most likely where his residence is.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

I read his before he posted it, I was in a rush to leave the house and didn't notice he had not posted yet. I'll see about getting the posts switched around or something. This is going to bug me.

@idlehands

Yeah. I was trying to think of how to switch them around, maybe....

@HeySeuss will you, can you fix some post order? I know your time is precious and I willing to trade BS formatting work or something? *bats lashes* please?

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Looking excellent! You guys rock my socks.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

September 9th, 2016. Friday night.

Despite the steady drizzle of rain the humidity wasn’t letting up. It seemed to crawl into lungs and press against them; an attempt to strangle from within that failed in an undead chest. The night twisted a coaxing finger, dark winds flitting across the sky; whispering something oppressive. A mild, yet permeating heat licked across a midnight skyline, clouds devouring stars. The clouds were in turn sliced and blurred by the lightning that darted above the city. It would die down to pitch darkness only to streak once again and reveal the proximity of a towering church spire and the grim faces of buildings and their faux light, false promise and security. There was something primal about the lightning rolling about the clouds, threatening those below with such a fierce beauty you almost wanted to let it take you.

And as above, so below.

The night raged on with all the promise friday brings. People filtered in and out of bars, homes, theaters and restaurants. They dwelled upon themselves with a blinding narcissism; oblivious to those that prowled about them, with them. They were giddy, intoxicated, lonely, sad, hunting. It wasn’t just the vampires scouting for prey. Observation gave way to all forms of monsters, mostly human through and through; but there were none so ferocious as her ilk; tucked within the masses. The demons, the vampires, the undead that sustained themselves on the buzzing life of this city; shaping and contouring a refined dish on which they feed their vices.

The music and chattering populace would have faded away at this vantage point, had she been human. Alas, the noise still chased and caressed her senses. She waited on the out perch of the building, watching a specific car; waiting on a specific someone.

She hadn’t been out long, two hours or so. She was trying to escape them, but was only feeding their urges within herself. Out here she had to hunt harder, smarter, crueler. Fear was something crisp and tangible and electric; she could feel it vibrate within herself as the lightning teased the sky. Charcoal lined eyes peered out from messy blonde hair, over the edge of the building, a slack forming as her lower jaw began to snap free of the human binds.

Then her phone rang shattering the image. Her eyes rolled from something primal to something irritated. She cracked her neck and popped her jaw back in with a sharp crunch as the bones rubbed and refitted, they were still grating as she answered the phone, “Yes?” Her eyes continued to flutter as if in her annoyance she was barely able to hold it together. She detested the whimpering whine of her thrall, even through the phone. Thankfully she trained them to be concise. “Tell them I’ll be there.” She slipped the phone back into her jacket pocket and started heading towards The Yowling Hide, a ‘punk rock’ bar where she was something of a regular. It’s owners and clientele were human, predominantly. If someone was looking for her there it wasn’t her sire or baron. They had better means of tracking her down than slumming it in a human bar. It’s why she liked the place.

Fifteen minutes later she was pushing the heavy metal door with ease and stepping into the blur of chaos and debauchery contained in this badly lit and terribly aerated basement. She caught the flinching gaze of her thrall and offered her a smirk that edged the line of a snarl as she made her way to the girl. She had to crack her neck and pause to center herself. She was hungry and Calorian was, as always, letting waves of fear drip from her like honey. Fiona raised her shoulders in a ‘what-the-fuck’ shrug and Calorian pointed towards the rest rooms and tried to shout over the music something that appeared on her lips as ‘Waiting over in the coroner.’

Fio canted her head towards the rest rooms and sniffed at the air with little luck. The plethora of human excrements, combined with the molding beer lines and smoke made it difficult to pinpoint anyone; another reason she liked this place. She glanced back at Calorian, she seemed no more nervous than usual. The girl wouldn’t be stupid enough to send her into a trap; Fio convinced herself as she was walking towards the corner by the rest rooms.

It wasn’t difficult to locate the woman in question. She was staring directly at Fiona and looked ridiculous in a club like this. Fiona’s leather jacket, torn denim jeans and combat boots allowed her some anonymity, but this woman looked like she should be at the Catalina Wine Mixer. As Fiona got closer she narrowed her eyes and produced her signature scowl. Surprisingly, the woman just appeared bored. “Fiona Engel?” Fiona quirked an eyebrow in response. The woman wasted no time thrusting an envelope into Fiona’s hand and then she disappeared into the crowd.

Sure, Fio could have followed her, but the girl was obviously a thrall; the bored demeanor, the complete lack of reaction. Fio was more interested in the envelope. She flipped it over in her hands a few times, feeling a demanding crack of her knuckles as she twisted her fingers, reading the outer inscription. She tapped it against her palm a couple of times, considering. The finger seemed extended, as if a third joint was appearing. She scanned the club, brushing blonde hair out of dark lined eyes with an unphased finger, trying to be casual. She felt no one out of place, though she did sense Calorian tense behind her; the targeted fear was like a lover was brushing her skin. She felt a few more knuckles crack and elongate. Her entire night had been thrown off, there was nothing else she could do. She quickly made her way out and headed home. She was hungry and it was tickling her stomach like a molotov cocktail.

By the time she got home her fingers were barely human, elongated twitching kin to what they had once been. She traced them along the cement walls that lined the basement, nails dragging and then clicking along the celled doors as she passed them. She sniffed the air until she turned towards a specific individual, if you could even call them that anymore. It whimpered and added the sharp smell of urine to the already intoxicating scent of fear. She breathed in heavily and her already demented facade trembled. The screams were muffled to the outside world but reverberated amongst the cells. The strength ran through her like the lightning in the sky and she let it take her into something primal.

September 10th, 2016. Saturday night.

She was sitting in her room on James Island, flipping the envelope in her hand. She scratched nervously at the back of her neck; trust had never been a strong suit with her kind. She had looked into the seal a little more just before dawn. There was a library here, most older vampires had them, and luckily Jezebel didn’t think the underlings could get powerful through books, so it was lightly guarded. It seemed simple, a seal of silence regarding what was in the note. She bit the tip of her finger, traced it across the envelope and pulled out the card inside; really, what did she have to lose?

She stepped out into a warm breeze. The sky was muted and filled with grayish clouds reflecting the light of the city. A creepy calm curled through the dense southern air. As she approached the docks the reflection of the city was doubled in the clouds and the deep shipping waters ahead. The water lulled as it lapped against the shore and the buildings that jutted into it’s depths. As she headed away from land and into the warehouses that pressed their weight into the sea floor she found DOCK 15 in large spray painted yellow. There was a flood light outside, casting down across 20 feet of dock before glinting across the steadily arching water.

There was fluorescent light in what looked like a main office just to the right of the yellow DOCK locator. She could make out the dull thrall from the bar and another man in the same Catalina Wine Mixer chique; boat shoes, polo and khakis. She took a brief moment to question why she was here, but ended up repeating to herself the same mantra that had followed her morning. 'You have nothing to lose and so much to gain.'

She opened the door and stepped confidently into the room. “Welcome, have a seat,” the man stated very cheerfully, unsurprisingly the female drone did nothing. The man continued,“We are waiting on a few others and then we will get started.”

A few others? Her eyes traced the completely empty room and she sat down in one of many seats separated by a conference table; 3 exits, 7 windows. If this was a trap they had chosen a terrible place. She looked at the two drones and couldn’t help but roll her eyes. ‘They’ also would need better contenders. She leaned back in the traditional office rolley chair and propped up her elbows on the arm rests. She cracked her knuckles and stared directly at the chipper man, daring him to show fear. He didn’t seem to notice. He seemed to be watching the door with anticipation.

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SUMMARY

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September 9th, 2016. Friday Night. A thrall locates you and gives you an envelope. She seems monotone and dull, but well taken care of. She has no other information to offer other than the envelope.

The envelope is sealed and requires a blood pact to open. The magic is tricky, but not difficult to come across if you know the right people. Instructions for opening are written across the envelope, “A drop of blood will seal your lips to the information contained within as surely as it is revealed.” Only the blood of the vampire addressed will open the envelope.

Inside is a card containing the following: “Saturday September 10th, 2016. Midnight. Charleston Harbor. Dock 15 Warehouse. For those seeking advancement.” Vague, to be sure.

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Thank you for your patience. IC will be up in a couple of hours and I'm not worried about a posting order, especially not for this post. This is more of your introduction. If you need any side information for your post that you aren't comfortable 'winging it' with feel free to PM myself or Hellis with questions. :)

SUPER excited to see this get rolling!

edit: By a couple of hours I mean right now.