[h3] 6:30 PM (18:30) ║ Wednesday ║ Spring ║ Weather: Calm[/h3]
The sound of ominous, yet elegant piano music filled a private room of the Café Royal. The Café, with painted goddesses, cupids, and tarnished gildings, was one of London’s first French-style restaurants. Golden caryatids and garlands decorated the room magnificently. The lighting was dim and tobacco smoke filled the building. The song was being played by a pale-skinned beauty with long, white hair woven together to make a waterfall braid, her eyes as silver as the moon. Her cheeks had the slightest of blush and her body was covered with the most illustrious Grecian silk. Her fingers glided on the keys of the piano playing the song of the Night, [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tA4BG8GVlQ] The Devil’s Waltz [/url].

A regal figure leaned over and kissed the woman’s cheek, [color=9e0b0f]“Beautiful Illona.”[/color] His hair too was white like the purest of snow and a red bow kept most of it together.

Illona looked up at her dear and loving husband, the King of the Underworld, and urged him to start the meeting, [color=f6989d]“They’re waiting.”[/color]

A few loose strands laid on the sides of his face, as he made his way to a large Rosewood and white marble table. If one stared into the eyes of this man, they would be trapped inside the chasm of his soul, an endless trip of darkness.  He sat at the front of the rectangular table in a crimson dining chair and stared at the four man, eagerly waiting for his company. 

The man to his left held similar facial traits to him. Only a fool would not be able to tell the relation between the two. The physical difference between the apparent brothers was the man to the left had shorter hair and eyes that burned red. They also presented themselves quite differently… one fancied Baroque attire, while the other preferred a simple silk puff tie, a Sinclair Edwardian club collar shirt, and black Callahan dress trousers. 

Taking off his tricorne hat, the shorter-haired man, known by the name of [u]Louis Ventrue[/u], impatiently leaned in his seat. As he smiled with glee, his eyes begged for the silent presence to speak. 

Beside Louis, a sinister seeming gentleman sat quietly, as if contemplating his surroundings. His hand was latched onto an elegantly designed glass goblet, his wrist gently swaying and swishing its sanguine contents around. He wore a fine, deep blue doublet emblazoned with black thorns creeping down its sides. His long, dark hair rested below his shoulders, and his face was etched with apathy. 

[i]Tap, tap, tap.[/i] A steady finger beat against the white marble, icy blue eyes leering at the shadowy man diagonal to him.

[color=f26522]“Fuck you, Grangrel…” [/color]the fashionable blonde whispered beneath his breath. 

Hearing this, [u]Amaury Grangrel[/u] turned his visage upon [u]Francois Malkavian[/u], smirking ever so slightly. Francois narrowed his eyes on his hated enemy, gritting his porcelain teeth. Despite all his rage, he was the most suavely dressed man here. He wore an angel white pea coat, decorated with golden buttons with ear rings to match. His hair was swept back, flawlessly arranged, and there was not a blemish to be found on his form.

Sensing the animosity in the air, the simply adorned man next to Francois tensed up, clutching his hands tightly against his waist. He had seen their quarrels before and wanted no part in their petty games. He was clothed in a mauve robe, a flaxen chain stretching from one side of his chest to the next. Unlike the others, his hair was unkempt and oddly colored: a dark purple with part of his bangs stricken with silver. There was a dignified wisdom in his yellow eyes, even as he watched the feuding Elders. Of great renown, this was [u]Marc Ravnos[/u].

Finally breaking the silence, the Master of the Night tapped his glass goblet with his sharp, lengthy pointer nail, catching the attention of his council. At once, their heads turned in unison to listen to their Lord.

[color=9e0b0f]“Good evening, gentlemen. I have invited you all to dinner tonight to discuss a very urgent matter. As you know, I have established a thriving community for our people here. However, I have no desire to stay in London forever, and I plan to take my leave back to my homeland soon. Of course, I will need someone to take over operations here…”[/color]

[color=aba000]“Oh! Brother, you’re so kind! I couldn’t be more honored!”[/color] the whimsical Louis jubilantly proclaimed, perking up in his chair. 

[color=9e0b0f]“Louis, let me finish…”[/color] the Dark Lord answered with a most forbidding glare. 

[color=aba000]“Fine, but c’mon. We all know it’s me.”[/color]

Grimacing at his brother’s spontaneous and eccentric nature, the sovereign continued, [color=9e0b0f]“As I was saying, I’m in need of a successor. It’s not easy to simply just point and choose one of you. In your own rights, you have all proven to me that you are formidable allies, men that I can rely on in times of need. Now you shall show me your ability to lead, to capture the respect and honor of our people. Show me an incredible feat, something that will seal your name in legend.”
[/color]

Silence swallowed the table. The music drew to a close. No man dared to take their eyes off their master. Illona gracefully made her way to the table and sat across from her husband. After placing her table cloth on her lap, she rang a dinner bell. The door swung open and a rush entered the room. Waiters and waitresses brought in the rarest and bloodiest of steaks, for each member at the table. 

As the door closed, the last waiter respectfully nodded, “Bon Appétit.”

Marc took this opportunity to inquire more into the subject matter, [color=92278f]“What are the terms and conditions, my Lord? How long do we have to prove ourselves?”[/color]

[color=f26522]“And what kind of feats are you looking for exactly?”[/color] Francois added. The charmer of the group watched his master cut into his meat. Curious of what the response would be, Francois took a slow sip of his drink.  

[color=9e0b0f]
“I won’t specify anything because I want you to use your creativity for this task. Just know that I want to see all of you at this table again.”[/color]

Louis’ voice chimed in, [color=aba000]“Smart thinking, brother! I’ll rally my crew and be out at sea by midnight. That damned Kraken won’t escape me this time, Vlad!”[/color]

At his brother’s notion, [u]Vlad Tepes[/u], King of the Underworld, gave Louis another long, hard stare. The others at the table looked visibly pained by the words that came out of his mouth. 

[sub][Post by GM and Co-GM][/sub]