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    1. TemplarKnight07 9 yrs ago

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Gideon silently nodded slightly to Max's whispered statement after he set the plates down. He whispered back, turning he head slightly but not looking directly at Max, his eyes focused on the food.

"After lunch."

The food looked and smelled divine, but then that was what Gideon paid for. He enjoyed his food as he sat back and ate, watching Andrew and Amelia dig in, he was in no rush to go judging by his eating pace.

Finishing a mouthful he was having, he spoke to Andrew again.

"How much are you offering, and what are you bringing to the table? I assume you're carrying a piece with you but I prefer to know what we have to work with in case anything arises, or if you have any kind of supplies or other gear of note. Don't want to make this into a multi-day trip and not have anything to make camp with, eh?"
Name: Ezekiel "Zeke" Kristoff, takes up the modern pseudonym of Malakai Faustus

Age; (300+/32)

Species: Kindred, 9th Generation Tremere

Appearance:


Personality: Arrogant and imperious, even in undeath, Zeke embodies many of the stereotypes of old wizards when it comes to personality. Confident in his abilities, a curmudgeon about change even at his relatively "young" age, and highly interested in knowledge of all kinds, especially that of the arcane as is his research. He likes the adoration of his "disciples", glares at those who give him looks for his style of dress, and is mostly ambivalent towards Kindred and Kine who treat him with respect.

Biography: Born in the village of Salem, Massachusetts in 1678, Ezekiel was raised by a family of God-fearing, clean-living Christians who worked to make a good name of their family and raise their children to be upstanding members of British Colonial Society, like most others at the time. As a child, Ezekiel was taught the Commandments and Scriptures, Original Sin, and to be watchful of the Devil's machinations to tempt humans and damn their eternal souls through his various agents, the Witches and Heretics.

Such a stringent upbringing, a total lack of exposure to any such socially unseemly elements only heightened Zeke's curiosity of them as he grew older. Why, pray tell, were these people so bad? What were they doing to make people fear and revile them so much? When he was 14, the infamous Salem Witch Trials occurred, and though the public hysteria around Witches and any practitioners of the dark arts were becoming increasingly more taboo than they already were, Zeke's fascination with them only increased. Surely there must be something truly fearful to these people that others would devote so much effort to hunting and rooting them out of society, and if it was true, then were the dark arts, magic itself, real?

Eventually leaving Salem to Boston proper to become a dock worker with what meagre funds he had, his family not having enough money to afford studies as a scholar, he spent his spare earnings he saved on purchasing books on the occult and supernatural, or borrowing the more publicly "decent" and available ones from libraries both private and public. He made his inquiries quietly, knowing full well the danger he ran in delving into forbidden studies.

For years he worked in Boston, slowly building up his store of arcane lore and assumptions on it, though he knew he had no way of knowing if any of them were remotely correct. Eventually a travelling circus came to town in 1710, when Zeke was 30, and among their cadre of freaks was a man who claimed to be a genuine magician, he performed shows at night, and the man himself, Zaroff the Magnificent, was supposedly never seen during the day, spending the whole time in his tent with his assistants keeping all manner of visitors away. The Ring Leader apparently had no problem with the magician's strange behaviours, since he always sold out crowds with his acts. Zeke attended a sold-out performance one night, and like much of the crowd was amazed by some of the spectacular tricks and performances that he could hardly believe they were illusions.

Zeke pestered Zaroff after the show, begging to be shown how he could do what he showed him, or to explain how he knew what he knew as a magician. Zaroff tried to shoo off the pestering labourer, but Zeke's persistence and evident primary but crude interests and knowledge of the arcane which he wasted in time in expounding upon the tired magician caught his interest. He told him to meet him again within a moon's turn, a month away at the end of the circus' time in Boston proper and if he was willing, maybe he'd show him some tricks of his trade.

In reality, "Zaroff" merely needed the time to seek permission from his Elders in the Camarilla to sire a childe, and to see if Zeke was actually serious and not just some idiot. A month later, Zeke appeared before his tent again, as resolute as ever, and that night, Zaroff took Zeke in the embrace, and made him into a Vampire of the Tremere Bloodline. That night, Zaroff, now revealing his true name of Georg Atterdag, explained the rules of unlife from now on. Zeke would come with him back to Europe, to take the Oath of Tremere and partake in the blood of the Inner Council of Seven, and thence forth he would apprentice under him as Magus and as Childe, from whom he would learn how to wield the art of Thaumaturgy (the true magic, not the parlour tricks Georg plied to please and fascinate the Kine), and learn all of the Traditions of Cainite society.

For 290 years, Zeke has wandered through Europe and North America with the times, avoiding and partaking in conflicts, seeking greater knowledge and power, and enjoying his unlife. Serving Clan Tremere long after he became free to make his own destiny out from the responsibility of his sire, Georg, and learning more and more about how to manipulate Thaumaturgy to slowly grow in power. A fierce supporter of the Camarilla and his clan, he rose to the rank of Magister, and accompanied Georg, now a Regent, to Washington D.C. to found a Chantry there.

Things didn't go too well on that venture. The Camarilla faced attacks by the Sabbat over control of the city in Modern Nights, and the Tremere being their second strongest supporters were prime targets when they setup a Chantry within the city limits. When the Sabbat came in force to take the city from the hands of the Camarilla, the Chantry was hit among the hardest. Georg died defending his Chantry, and numerous other Apprentices and Acolytes died or were taken by the Sabbat that Night, and Zeke did the only pragmatic thing, he fled and sped out of town as fast as his car could take him. Jumping from Camarilla Chantry to another, he resolved to make his own path somewhere far from The Sabbat and his now shattered past on the East Coast and try to serve the interests of Kindred and Clan on the West Coast, a new frontier for the Camarilla and Sabbat, but long stomping grounds for the Anarchs and many others.

Thus, he sought the City of Angels 2 years ago to make a new unlife for himself, and start a new chapter in his ambitions. Not having the authority or even seeking to make something so open as a Chantry in Los Angeles, especially since there was no official Prince or Regent anymore, none that were aligned with the Camarilla, thanks to the ongoing conflict there that was supposedly decimating the Elder Kindred there. Thus, he decided to start very simply, he set up his own cult, The Followers of Nodens, making the name after the writings of H.P. Lovecraft.

He made it to appeal to the New-Age Yuppie-kids crowd that sought a way to rebel against their parents, "the system", or were striving to find their own individual identity, the usual suckers. It was a two-part operation, the first being the more widely known organization that sold punk apparel, ran a tattoo and piercing shop, did hairstyling, sold heavy metal and punk music of all kinds, under the counter drugs and light weapons, and dabbled in selling Satanist edgy "dark magic" manuals and paraphernalia, all of which were bullshit knock-offs to get money out of said suckers. The second part was for the more serious, and was located in the backrooms and basement of his property, where the actual cult practiced and attended to Zeke as akin to a God himself. All of its members were Ghouls of Zeke's, his servants to move about and do tasks in his name where he could not in the light of the day, and whom were his main "herd" to feed off of and so were carefully chosen for their ability as much as their pedigree from being mere employees to actual Cult members. The exclusivity only made his cult more mysterious and sought-after by the young crowd. He never taught them any magic, as the Tremere Code forbade it, but with their bounds as Ghouls that didn't matter to any of them, they saw his powers in action and were bound to him absolutely.

Zeke's current ambitions revolve around projecting his presence into the ring of LA formally now that he had established himself, and to potentially sire his first childe, if he could find a suitable and worthy apprentice. More than anything, like all Tremere, Zeke seeks to find greater power and schemes to advance himself and the Clan's interests, and his business in the city of Angels is no exception.

NPCs:

Name: Gideon Haines
Species: Human
Position: "Prospect" (marking his unknowing observation by Zeke as a potential new addition to his inner cohort), Young Adult Rebel
Appearance:


Name: Julienne "Juli" Grace
Species: Ghoul
Position: Cultist, "Left Hand of Faustus", Former Satanic Cultist
Appearance:


Name: Charles "Charlie" Markham
Species: Ghoul
Position: Cultist, "Right Hand of Faustus", Punk
Appearance:
Gideon steepled his fingers together and leaned back slightly in his stool, putting his glass back down again.

"My primary business is in acquisitions, so to speak. People want something, I go and hunt for it for a price. Either that, or I just go out myself looking for nice pieces that people might be willing to pay a nice sum for. Could be anything. Parts, equipment, any manner of supplies or materials though I don't make it my business as a bulk salesman, basically anything that I judge to be worth the risk and effort on my part to obtain for a client . . . been doing it for a fair bit of time now."

Gideon turned slightly to take the change off the table as Amelia walked back, nodding to her before looking back over at Andrew.

"My pleasure . . . To this end, I know my way around fairly well and make it my business not to get into any trouble I can't get out of. If such a person is who you're looking for to . . . give you the ten-cent tour . . . then I leave that up to you to decide."
So do the thumbs up mean I'm good to walk in how I want? Or are you guys still looking over? Just wondering.
Gideon nodded to Andrew.

"Very good."

Looking over at Amy as she posed her question, he reached into his coat and drew out his wallet. He took a 100 Mark note out and slid it over to her.

"Help yourself, on me."

Gideon then left the note in front of her and redirected his attention back at Andrew, his expression still neutral and keeping his body relaxed as he took his pint glass up again.

"So, you were saying?"

Gideon took his eyes off of Andrew and looked back over at Amy, calmly replying.

"Word to the wise from my experience is to fully trust nobody in The Zone. But he seems harmless enough, if a bit jumpy for whatever reason. That's his business, I certainly don't know anything about him."

Absently, he put his glass down besides him and scratched the back of his neck with his right hand, using his left to simply check that the stock of his shotgun was within reach before letting go and returning his hands to the table. It was a nervous reflex, he knew Max didn't tolerate shoot-outs nor did he intend to shoot anyone here, but it was a way of reassuring himself that he stuff was still where he left it and that he could draw something out quickly if need be.
Gideon looked back over at Max by the bar and at Andrew talking to him, himself still slightly speechless as he watched Andrew walk over to order from the actual Max. He'd have to clarify that sooner rather than later. In the meantime, he kept his expression neutral and thought briefly on Andrew's offer.

Normally Gideon didn't like partners, particularly inexperienced ones. Inexperienced people often could attract unwanted attention in The Zone, as Andrew was evidently showing just by his interactions in the bar here. On the other hand, there were practical benefits to having multiple backs, eyes, ears, sets of hands, and guns in various situations, regardless of experience. Plus, he could stand to make more profit just by showing this guy around and the ropes along with whatever Max had in mind so long as it didn't get them killed. Its not like he intended to go storm a bandit camp or ambush an armed convoy headed for The Ring or some other openly gung-ho shit anyway. He was here to make money, and avoid dying while doing it.

Amidst his thoughts, he politely acknowledged Amy at the table, leaning in to talk to her quietly.

"Greetings, people around here call me Owl, actually. Name's not Max either, I'll have to fill that in to our fellow when he gets back here, but pray don't tell him, there's a first lesson I can show him in it all by the end of this if we actually do agree on some sort of job and he hasn't figured it out."

Leaning back on to his stool, he discretely glanced over at where Andrew had walked over to, taking another sip of his pint. Max would get a chuckle out of this if when he found out, if it all worked as Gideon intended.
Finished my app in case you want to check it over.
Inquisitor Alexius' Cutter departed from one of the newly outfitted Battleships of the Imperium Reborn's Fleet. He had chosen not to arrive aboard The Wandering Chronos and leave it behind in Arexia Prime's system for several reasons. First being that the Battleship itself, formidable though it was, was not fully crewed and therefore not ideal for a protracted battle situation. Second being that the ship was the Ordo Chronos' base of operations, training grounds, and personal abode, he would not risk its destruction or damage in battle at this stage, even if they had overwhelming numbers here. The Ordo's purpose was to serve as the new Inquisition of the Imperium Reborn, and that had to take priority over the current martial situation of the campaign's beginning. Besides, he'd given Lord Corbec almost all of the rest of his fleet and army to command, he felt the Lord-Militant wouldn't begrudge him one Battleship.

Thus, he'd obtained private transport aboard the newly formed Navy. He did his best to keep a low profile about the situation, mostly out of his desire for privacy in thinking about what to do about the negotiations over the Forge-Moon along with all of the other rogue elements that seemed to be cropping up into the Imperium by the week, but also out of caution about who had been spying on his fleet. He had read Lord Corbec's message before making his arrangements to depart, and figured that although he could not pursue the contents now, he thought it wouldn't hurt to be too careful. He'd also sent Inquisitor Varius off on his Special Assignment to the Relictor's Starfort, and under the terms of Special Assignment, he was not to communicate with Alexius via regular, overt channels. Thus, he'd heard nothing of his Inquisitor's reception there, but he wasn't too worried given his discussion with Captain Lattore earlier.

In any case, the burst of conflict immediately following the entry into the Forge-Moon's Orbit surprised him. He didn't expect they would encounter resistance so early. He hoped that whoever it was, the negotiations were not already blown. Once the Cutter crew got the clear to move, they set a course through the fleet to Saint's Chariot.

Entering onto the bridge alone, he saw Gregori already there among his crew, and the Astartes Captain Tyros who towered above everyone else in the room. He entered calmly in and made small conversation, nodding respectfully to the Astartes before turning to the new Emperor.

"Captain Tyros. I come as requested your Imperial Majesty, hopefully that reception outside is not indicative of what the situation of the Forge-Moon is. Though I must admit, I always though Forge-Moons taken by the Archenemy to be not so . . . pristine in nature. If a Forge-Moon can be called pristine."

@Fyre Unholy

Gideon looked around first at Max then back to the guy asking for his attention. His pint still in his hand as he turned on his stool. He spoke casually, eyeing the newcomer's nervous ticks.

"What exactly is it that you want? I specialize in a variety of different products from a bunch of different places, if that's what you're looking for."

He took another sip of his glass, enjoying the cold brew and the feeling the buzz starting to kick in from the lack of food in his stomach, which would be remedied shortly.

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