Typical, the young vampire had absolutely no respect for the finer points of politics and actual thinking. Like a rash he would rather go in and stir up what trouble he could then by his luck attempt to outmaneuver the misfortune. A jack, not a knight at all. In return to the oblivious upstart youth, Lord Bedivere merely offered a chuckle at the retort. Not every vampire turns out the same though the passing of time, some merely become mad in their own immortality, while others conform themselves to the culture of the era. Is this what they have become now? Fantasy objects as made by the human imagination? Scantily clad pretty boys and lusty dominatrix ladies? They used to be feared as bringers of death and the unnatural. Humanity has painted them as objects of desire now, dark, pale and mysterious, and vampires like Magnus probably embraced it judging by the younger's attire and lack of respect for others so present in the generation. Imagine that, immortals forever stuck as teenagers or fraternity brothers, now perhaps that would truly be terrifying.

Nevertheless, it appeared the others were in favour to bring war to the humans. Although the terms were still fuzzy at beast, or perhaps at best, with the addition of the interloping werewolf who was seemingly invited? Strange times to request a werewolf into vampire assembly, what would be next, the old mummies down in Egypt? Still dog or not, the werewolves of London were never too much of a bother to contact. Yet the appearance of Gabriel was interesting, that the old fart would even show to something like this would mean either he was drunk off bad blood, or perhaps actually had some interest. Then again, it was never good to rely on someone like him who prefers to work as a lone wolf. And then there was her...

With a quick grasp at his bowler hat, he held his formal headwear from flying in the gust of wind provided by one of the primals. She was clearly old, but perhaps a far more level-headed ancient one than Magnus. Her clothing was true to her roots, finally a vampire with the decency of respecting tradition.

"Ah, Lady Mohowauuck, it has been quite some time, French-Indian war was it Mid-18th century? This side is I believe within your jurisdiction, hence I shall trust in your judgment in starting this battle. Coincidentally, I was in the area to finalize a business transaction involving original American artifacts, my associate here has managed to acquire a particular hatchet. However, I fear it is not authentic, dare I ask for your opinion on it after we spill some blood? Or perhaps even your young ward can be of some assistance in identifying, what say you?"

From his suite Lord Bedivere produced a pocketwatch, and checked the time. Ah, good, it was sunset.