[u]Eriko-Noxious; Insert by Francis-Hellis[/u]

Inigo’s approach was greeted with a bow of her head; one purposefully blatant so that her respect for him, and for the Primogen, could be made apparent. Some thought her arrogant, and they were right, but the small statured femme fatale had not survived without relying on those with merit. Inigo was one such person and her attention was offered in verification. Plus, she had always liked Inigo’s way of speech. It reminded her of times in the past in which words were beautiful and poetic; a time when the population had grasped for the ethereal the only way they knew how. For a second she wondered what he had been like in life. Quickly that thought joined the other dissonance of her brain, a thrill hive that would have threatened frenzy in her youth. It was not a threat now as the conditioned organ began to file, list, and prioritize her thoughts.

As Inigo spoke she turned a few pages of the folder. Her attention moved to him between pages, but with her mind fluttering the way it was she could not careful read the report. She abandoned her attempted reading but carefully slipped the folder between her arm and chest for later. She meet his eyes with a fierce unfaltering gaze. Now was not a time to shy away from eye contact. Now was a time to weed out the untruthful. She was in control enough to not assert any kindred dominance into her stare beyond the strictness that lay even in the base of her nature. She favored brevity with Inigo in light of the lengthy speech she had in store for the assembled group. Once he had finished speaking she responded.

“Thank you valued Inigo. I hope that you shall remain faithful for what comes." She paused, either for affect or acknowledgment, and held his eyes for a few moments. She really wanted to discuss his thoughts on who was behind the attack, but that could wait until after their meeting. And so he was offered another bow of her head.

While she admired his speech, he was right to recede this burden. There was no room for confusion now, and her words would not be confused, for better or for worse. She stepped out towards the front of the group. Francis followed behind her, watchful and coiled. His presence loomed about her, more mindful than her own shadow. Once she was at a raised position it was easy for her voice to carry. The same voice had once carried deep into the night across the sense-blurring force of a cyclone, ushering out similar orders. She had been a warrior then, sick with bloodlust and reckless in her youth. She couldn’t help but allow those lips to curl ever so slightly. Time truly was cyclical.

Time. “Some of you may recall before the Camarilla offered balance, united us with the belief that we could exist among humans. We go about our own business, we have shed the burdens of awe and fear. Avoid the hunters, the attention, that continually spawn from the loins of that truly cursed lifestyle. A semblance of stability in this eternal life.” She paused, finding the gaze of attendees. The passion of her stare was apparent; less apparent was the almost subconscious use of presence. Her eyes narrowed as her tone became graver. “For those who don’t remember, it was not all blood orgies and cult followings. There is no strength, no power that can protect you from the wrath of others when they know your face. Your true face. No protection beyond a very deep hole and time, and that is if you are lucky. Each clan here has lost dozens of kindred to not respecting the masquerade. Kindred have been mutilated, strung up and burned not 50 miles from this very location. Kindred much stronger than the majority of you. I do not only speak of a distant Boston of the past, these times threaten us now. Your Prince and your Sheriff were murdered. These were not acts of chance. This was a threat. Be not content. War is coming to this city.”

She paused again; smoothing her skirt with a dry palm and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. It didn’t matter what she had done earlier in the night. Her appearance was fervent, refined, and direct; part politician, leader, and captain. These were her common base traits, and now, surrounded by kindred, the promise of battle tickling her neck, they were undeniable. “I am Eriko Nishimura; Seneschal to the Camarilla of Boston. More importantly, I am not a stranger to waging war. War is in my blood, just as it flows through all of you, handed down as a necessity, as a blessed birth right. It seems that this ideal has been lost upon some of you, specifically those unaccustomed to fighting for survival, for our protected way of life. We grew comfortable. Let me be very clear, the Camarilla support existing among the humans, [i]not as humans.[/i] The time has come once again to be warriors for the cause that unites us here.

Our vigilance, our protection of the masquerade and of each other should have increased immediately following the first whispers. It did not. We were vain and self-righteous in our blindness and now chaos beckons at the door. The blindness ends now. [b]We are at war.[/b] In this cyclical life we have always been at war against the beasts, kindred and kine we share this world with.” She seemed more lively when she spoke of war. “I am not asking you to fight for me, but with me. In my opinion there is nothing, nothing, more valuable in this eternal life than the opportunity to fight for something you believe in. This as a battle for our city and for secrecy. Now, if you are questioning that reason, the importance of the masquerade, I ask that you reconsider.”

She now looked to Peter who had slipped in the back of the crowd. He nodded and went to retrieve something from the limo. She returned her gaze to those gathered and her tone became sharper.

“Complacency and cowardice cannot, will not, be tolerated. There are no gray areas in war. You are with us, or against us. And those against us are going to burn. I am going to take everything they have ever loved and destroy it or damn it. The hills will run red with the blood of the beasts, the streets will glimmer with the brutish insanity of the Sabbat. There will be no one left to mourn their pathetic passing into whatever hell that awaits. Even humans will not be spared; for woe to the human who stumbles into our fray. We may not be the righteous, but we will be the victorious and never, never a coward.

Peter walked in with a kindred shackled. It seemed the fight (information?) had already been beaten out of him. She continued to address the other vampires as Peter handed the shackled kindred over to Francis. “I do not care about your personal feelings towards the Prince. I do not care about your personal feelings towards the Sheriff. I do not care about your personal feelings beyond two simple factors: Are you a friend or an enemy? Can I count on you to protect our way of life?”

She turned to the vampire that Francis contained a few feet away. “This man was a sworn bodyguard of the Prince, yet somehow he is alive and the Prince, and all his comrades are dead.” She glanced over the beaten man with a malicious smirk and then her eyes met his and her demeanor became something that could be confused for sympathy. She knew the man’s sire, an honorable man. He would be ashamed. “It was wrong of your elders to let you believe that cowardice was acceptable. May you find redemption in an afterlife, if you believe in one.”

She met the eyes of Francis and gave a small nod.

[Francis-Hellis]
Francis had been holding the kindred down with relative ease. There was several reasons for this. Peter had previously pulverized the man’s tibia bone with great care. And then his left knee had been turned into splintered little pieces. Even if they could heal, if you fractured a bone enough, it would still be incredibly painful and take forever to heal. This was one reason the vampire in his care was pacified. The other was the stake that had been driven into his back. Paralysis from a severed spine was an effective way to keep an unruly creature of any kind down. Francis had stood still, statue of discipline and muscle. He moves suddenly, tossing the man onto his back. He stared up at Francis, who by all means should not have been able to so easily take him out earlier. Francis was scary, ask anyone, but to this man he might as well be satan incarnate. He steps up and close, grabbing the man by the neck. And as the man flailed, he held him down while grabbing a hatchet in his other hand. With a swift swing, the head came rolling across the floor. He let go without a word and produced a zippo offering her a light for the cigarette she had pulled out.
[/Francis-Hellis]

She inhaled from the cigarette and turned back to the gathered kindred, once again making focused eye contact. “If you choose the path of cowardice run, run fast, run far, leave this city for no mercy exists in this place, not anymore. They have stolen our mercy.” She sighed. She shouldn’t favor threats. This was not a pirate ship. The cigarette was discarded and she wiped a few smudges of coward’s blood from her cheek with a folded kerchief from her breast pocket. She refolded and replaced the piece of fabric and then addressed the gathered once again. 

“Because I am not unreasonable I offer amnesty to those who want to remain unaligned. I will give the indifferent 48 hours to get out of Boston. Leave the city. No one is forced to fight or be involved, live out your existence in another corner of this world.” She felt no sympathy for the cowards or the unaligned, surely none for the body slumped near her feet. If the Camarilla would support the massacre of them all she would oblige. She had, from the beginning, been a staunch supporter of the Camarilla. Not just because of the order, but because she was heavily invested in the masquerade. “I hope that you choose to stay and fight, in my experience the weakening of the masquerade and the inevitable war is infectious. If we win this here, it won’t have a chance to infect the rest of the world.”

“All kindred wishing to remain in the city of Boston, aligned or unaligned need to check in with one of the Primogen or at Elysium. Spread the word.”

She bowed her head just slightly and stepped back. Before the room could react to her decree she made her way to an exit of the building. There was much to do. She began to read over Inigo’s report and think more about their situation as she slipped into the Limo. Peter walked up to the Primogen and a few others, whispering to them a message about meeting in the next hour at her residence before he too returned to the limo.